


Prince of the Wolves

by KuraiOfAnagura



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bloodshed, But Yuri's not the best when it comes to aknowledge feelings, Fighting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystical Creatures, Otabek and Yuri are traveling the steppe most of the times, Otabek's a prince, Otayuri New Year 2018, Royalty, Sexual Content, Squint for the GoT reverences, Violence, Wolves, Yuri Plisetsky is a little bitch, Yuri's a prince, and try to get to know each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiOfAnagura/pseuds/KuraiOfAnagura
Summary: The prince of the northern woods was to be wedded to the prince of the plains.As romantic and wistful as these words sounded, they yet betrayed the bitterness that accompanied the wedding. For it was not the prince, but a prince. A son among many others, brother to many other brothers and if not he himself, but then his seed a threat to the throne.Because many sons were a blessing and a burden in one; too many wars have been fought; too much blood has been shed.So it came that a prince of the Northern Woods, Yuri, was to be wedded to a prince of the Great Plains, Otabek.





	1. CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> First I want to thank my lovley artist Sterndecorum (http://sterndecorum.tumblr.com/), who drew the artworks for this, for the time we spent together working on this piece. I can say we became friends and it's always amazing how fandom brings people together who live on different continents!  
> Without her input and discussions and kind words I don't think I would've been able to finish this work!  
> Also thanks to my lovely beta, who took a look over this.
> 
> I also want to thank the Mods of the Otayuri Big Bang 2018, who were always kind and understanding.  
> Fandoms live from people like you!
> 
> What started with prologue that stood on its own, kind of spiraled out of control and here we are!  
> This is the most I've ever written in one go and I really hope you'll enjoy reading it!  
> Please mind the tags, I'll update them as we progress

The prince of the northern woods was to be wedded to the prince of the plains.

As romantic and wistful as these words sounded, they yet betrayed the bitterness that accompanied the wedding. For it was not _the_ prince, but _a_ prince. A son among many others, brother to many other brothers and if not he himself, but then his seed a threat to the throne.

Because many sons were a blessing and a burden in one; too many wars have been fought; too much blood has been shed.

So it came that a prince of the Northern Woods, Yuri, was to be wedded to a prince of the Great Plains, Otabek.

For Otabek the day had begun too early, his aunt waking him bevor the sun and bringing him in front of his brother, the king. The people of the Great Plains were a nomadic one, without borders herding their animals from stronghold to stronghold and by tradition their king had to wander with them as well. For the king was the shepherd that united the tribes and even if they might keep goats and sheep they all were warriors down in their hearts.

“Otabek,” his brother began from his stool, equally dishevelled as Otabek felt, a dusk wolf’s fur draped over his naked shoulder. “This shall be feastful day for we will ride to your wedding today.”

Otabek didn’t know how to respond yet his brother was accustomed to his silence. “I know of your wish to remain unwedded, yet you’re part of the royal tribe and we cannot let this opportunity go. The High Prince of the country of the Northern Woods has offered the hand of his youngest brother, a prince, in marriage in exchange of an alliance during the times of war and a trade route through our plains.”

“Forgive me, my brother, but … Prince?”

The king tried and failed to roll his eyes. “They are a strange people. They do not consist of tribes like we do. They do not elect their King by strength and wisdom like we do, but by heritage and thus every other son is an enemy to his brother, because every son is entitled to the throne. If he is the only son, of course. You’re smart, Otabek, you can imagine where this leads. So these strange people have come up with the tradition to wed the younger sons to the sons of other families, so no ill seed can remain.”

“I see.”

“For us it will be good. We will gain a great ally and may finally make peace with the north. The messenger has told me the dowry will make you a rich man. And even if all fails we’ll gain another hand, hopefully another warrior, yet he’s your… husband and that’s up to you…” His brother frowned upon his own wording, foreign on his tongue. He shook his head and addressed the warrior in front of him again.

“Otabek, are you willing to aid your tribe and your Khan in this?”

They both knew it was an empty question as his wedding has already been decided. Yet the king gave him the opportunity to proof himself and his loyalty in front of the surrounding court members.

The entourage consisted of himself and his king. A handful of warriors made up of some of his other brothers and sisters, the scribes, some maids and three other tribe leaders that happened to be among his king’s court at this time.

Otabek was dressed in fine cloth, his sword and bow replaced with heavily ornamented ones, glittering in gold and silver. Golden were also the rings and bracelets, the fine chains around his necks and kohl lined his eyes, like it was custom for a warrior. A heavy beaded and embroidered sash was wound upon his torso, ringing with every step from little golden bells.

After he’d proclaimed his loyalty to the kingdom and his willingness to wed the foreign prince, his aunt had brought him to the bath’s, washed his body and hair as if he was a youngling and no groom. She’d sheared his hair in the traditional style and massaged his skin with oils. He was sure to never be able to look his aunt into the eyes ever again.

They met the northerners on the riverside that officially marked the beginning of their kingdom. The warriors had set up the big tents already when they finally showed up in the late afternoon.

His eldest sister and right hand to his king frowned upon the noticeable smaller entourage and muttered something darkly that Otabek tried to overhear.

“My friend, I am glad to meet upon such a great day for both of our people!” As small as the northerner entourage may be, it was the High Prince himself who lead them, a sure sign of how important he deemed their alliance.

Otabek was brought bevor his brother-in-law and bowed deep. Tales of the High Prince Victor had reached even their fires and his imposing figure was nothing if not intimidating. His laugh seemed warm, but the coldness of his eyes betrayed it. His shimmering silver hair clouded him in beauty, but Otabek stayed wary and hoped not to underestimate him.

Upon custom Victor stepped down from the high stools that were erected for him the Nomad King and kissed Otabek three times on his cheeks and presented him with the dowry. Gold and spices, fine cloth, thread in the colours of the rainbow, tools of pure iron, swords encrusted with jewels and strangely one single cat. All the while the scribes of both sides kept measure about the gifts exchanged.

The northerner wed their people by a priest while this task usually fell upon the chief or king for the nomads. After some discussions it was clear that their priest would perform the ceremony and his brother would announce their union.

Finally after everything said and done Victor gestured to a servant, who hurried towards the finely carved carriage and opened it. The person who stepped out was draped over and over with jewellery, he could barely manage to walk towards the gathered company. A colourful and brightly woven cloth was slung over his head, concealing his features from Otabek. The veil was attached to a high and glittering Kokoshnik, towering over his future husband like a crown, shimmering like stars and pearls in the dying light of the sun. Victor took his hand and lead him the remaining steps bevor he handed the fine fingers into Otabek’s and stepped back for the priest to start his sermon.

After the opening words Victor stepped forward again and lifted the heavy veil from his future husband. Otabek’s breath caught in his throat. He’d expected the same blue eyes as his older brother’s, but what he saw was green. The colour of the grass during spring, freckled with blue flowers here and there and the vast sky above. Otabek was promised a prince, but this beauty could surely not belong to any mortal man, can it?

The northern prince must’ve read his hesitation poorly, his hand twitched as if he’d like to retrieve it and his fine brows turned into a scowl. The priest coughed discreetly and the soon to be betrothed faced away from each other again. The northern dialect was different from the ones spoken in the plains and it was hard for Otabek to follow whatever the priest was saying. What he did notice though was the sadness that crept into his future husband’s features and the pearly tears that gathered around the light lashes. His hair was golden like the sun.

Otabek squeezed the hand lightly and when the green gaze found his again he threw him what he hoped was his most reassuring and gentle smile he could muster under the circumstances. It must’ve had worked for the prince’s lip twitched upwards and his eyes became clear again. Otabek would never forget the look in his eyes as he faced forward once more. A warrior facing his battle.

It seemed as if the northern prince had as little to say in this wedding as he did.

The priest ordered them to clasp hands bevor he ran a ceremonial knife through their joined thumbs and washed ash and ink into the cut. Creating one black stroke that joined two people. Neither of the two princes flinched upon the injury.

Otabek had attended many weddings until now and even though he’d never wished for marriage himself, he’d always pictured his own to be merry and full of laughter. But the feast around the fire was brisk and short, his husband equally mute as during the ceremony. Any words of congratulations spoken to them were welcomed by twin nods from them. No dance and music and only some bits of laughter were shared. After the first round of wine his older sister ordered him to get up and lead him to a yurt far off the fire. Thick pelts were gathered inside and hot coals heated the stale air. A white linen was draped over the makeshift bed.

A jingling sound of too many beads woven together announced that his husband had followed him, his brother’s hand strong on his arm. The man with the silver hair bent down and whispered something into the boy’s ear, causing the scowl to deepen. Whatever it was, it did not make Otabek’s husband happy.

The High Prince looked up and locked eyes with Otabek for the first time. “Congratulation on your marriage, Prince of the Plains. I wish you much fun for your wedding night.” And with that he gave the Prince of the North a small shove and let the tent flap fall shut behind him.

Suddenly the air was much thicker and hotter.

Right.

The wedding night.

By law they had to consummate their marriage.

While he’d lain with some women already and was not opposed on sharing a bed with men the thought of taking his husband to bed for the very first time made him nervous.

Slowly and methodically his husband had started to shed his wedding cloth, his eyes glued to the ground like beads of glass. The golden bracelets, the bells, the chains and rings and silks all landed careless on the carpet of the yurt. Finally he lifted a golden clasp and the heavy fabric fell from his shoulders and Otabek was presented with the naked body of a boy. Otabek himself was not old with his nearly 19 summers, but he was still considered a man by his tribe and certainly by the women who tried to haggle him into their beds. The boy’s hair was long like his brother’s and it now cascaded down over the gangly shoulders of a youth that had not yet reached his full maturity. Right, his brother had mentioned it was the youngest prince that he was offered.

Yet on the second glance he saw how the smooth face and milky skin betrayed hard muscles and strong sinews underneath. Not so much of a child then.

Finally the sharp green eyes darted up again and like a challenge the boy slunk down on the white linen, spreading his arms wide and presenting his white neck and belly. Something in Otabek stirred.

His husband had laid himself bare like a sacrifice on an alter, ready to be taken by him.

But something was not right; those mesmerizing eyes have dulled once more, accepting whatever may come, his mind detached from his surroundings.

In what felt like forever Otabek tried to speak again, his voice faltering and he started anew. “Can I have-?” But he was interrupted by a digressing snort.

“Is this not clear enough for you?” Otabek was stunned into silence. “You can have everything you want. I belong to you, now.”

“No, I mean…” it was not for Otabek to stumble over words, but the situation was entirely out of his control by now. “Your name?”

This startled his husband into sitting up and regarding him for probably the first time with interest. Otabek took it as a cue and sat down on the pelts as well, carefully keeping a respectful distance.

“Yuri,” the boy whispered, absent minded caressing his new mark on his hand. “And what may I call you, oh husband of mine?”

The warrior wanted to talk, but suddenly no air was left in his lungs. “O-Otabek…”

A little mean smirk passed over those plush lips. “And here I was told that the nomads from the plains are brutes who cannot control themselves when presented with an opportunity.”

“We are people with honour. You’re no spoil of war, but my husband. It is within my duty to protect you. Even if it is from myself.”

A distrusting scoff. “Debatable.”

“Can’t we uhm-“ he looked toward the white cloth beneath them and gestured a cut on his palm, hinting they could just fake their consummate, but Yuri shook his head.

“They will check me in the morning.” With that he deemed their conversation over and laid down again, spreading his thighs. Otabek didn’t know what to do. In theory he had been lectured what was expected of him. His ears still burned from the gruelling instructions a scribe had provided, but now presented with the actual task he was at a loss.

In slow movements he stood up to undress as well, not wanting to scare Yuri any more. As much bravado as the boy put up, Otabek was able to see through it for it was a shared feeling. Carefully he brushed his fingers over Yuri’s knee as he kneeled between his legs. Otabek’s traitorous mind couldn’t stop from noticing how white and inviting they looked. Yuri hadn’t flinched upon the contact and had gone back to stare apathetically at the yurt’s ceiling again.

Otabek looked around and found the vials with oils next to the white cloth, he coated his fingers and this time Yuri couldn’t help the flinch as Otabek dared to dive his digits between his cheeks.

Yuri refused to meet his eyes as Otabek tried to prepare him and when he was able to take three fingers Otabek deemed him loose enough. The warrior braced himself against those narrow hips. His dark fingers contrasting starkly with the milky skin and he found it troublesome to stay hard himself. Not when Yuri hid his eyes behind his arms and looked as if he’d cry at any moment, his own cock flaccid nestled within his blond pubes.

Otabek did not want to take this boy, his husband, like this. But he knew the cost of his selfish desire. For one Yuri would probably cast out into the wilderness, and then the alliance would break, leaving the north without warriors and the plains without the lucrative traders that were promised. His people would suffer and hunger and he would take their opportunities from them. He could not do this to his people only to satisfy his own cowardly impulse.

“This alliance is important to my people, to me. I want this, whatever the costs,” his new husband, Yuri his mind provided, told him as if reading his mind, fixing him in a hard gaze underlining his claim.

Stroking his cock to a nearly usable hardness he positioned himself anew and closed his eyes as he breached his husband. The pained cry though reached his ears and Yuri had curled up unable to restrain himself any longer and put his hands on Otabek’s shoulders. They both panted hard but Yuri didn’t dare to push him away. With a gentle hand Otabek guided Yuri back down onto the pelts ignoring the streaks of tears and running the same hand soothingly up and down his flank like he would calm a horse. Yuri whimpered as Otabek removed himself.

“W-what are you doing?” his husband asked confused as he started first clean him and then himself with a soft cloth that was next to the oil vials.

“I’ve taken you, the marriage is binding. There is no need for me to defile you more than is required of me.” Suddenly Yuri lunged forward and their roles were reversed, a sharp edge pressed against his pulse point – _where had he hid the blade?-_ and furious eyes bore into his.

“Don’t you ever dare to mistake me for weak!” he hissed furiously into Otabek’s face and Otabek was sure this is what falling in love must feel like. It was either this or he was dying. As an peace offer Otabek relaxed under him and held up his palms.

“I do not and I will keep it in mind not to do so in the future. But I’m no … brute like you called me, I do not wish to do more to you than what is required of me. I don’t find pleasure in sleeping with somebody who doesn’t want me.”

Yuri got back up, the small blade tumbled from his fingers and all of his previous fight had left him.

“I do not want you.”

“This is alright, I will not punish you for it.”

“I lost.”

“What?”

“I’ve tried to make a difference, but I’ve lost the gamble. This marriage is my prison and you are my punishment.”


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a little bit shorter, I'm very sorry.  
> I will update this fic ONCE A WEEK, so please stay with us until the end! \0/
> 
> Thank you everybody for your kind words on the first one.  
> As always all of my thanks goes to my lovely artist sterndecorum and her helpful feedback <3

They’ve fallen asleep on different sides of the yurt and woke up from the sound of the awakening horses. Yuri jumped to his feet and fumbled with his previously disregarded wedding dress. More or less decently covered he stormed out of the yurt. Outside the world was still grey, the sun had yet to rise. Frantically he looked over the whole camp side, but other than the yurts and horses of the nomads and the two donkeys with his dowry the place was deserted. Weakly he sunk to his knees, loneliness and abandonment blooming in his chest.

“Your people left after the feast. Come, we will leave with the sun. It is a day’s ride to our northern capital. Can you ride?” It was not his husband who stood beside him, but his new brother in law and king. Yuri could only stare numbly at the horizon.

As anticipated the scribes checked if he’d been taken that night and reported under bowing to the nomad king that the marriage has been consummated. He was given leather breeches and woollen tunic, Otabek slung a heavy pelt coat over his shoulder before he heaved him up on his horse behind him.

His mind and heart were as empty as the plains around him. The land stretched vast and endless towards the horizons. Twice he dared to turn around and face what lay behind them. The second time he could no longer see the woods or the mountains.

There was a strange peacefulness to be in company yet so utterly alone in this unending landscape. The rhythm of the hooves beneath them and the breathing of Otabek in front of him him lulled him further into that sense.

The donkeys had slowed them down so the king decided to ride forward together with the other chiefs and the newlyweds. Darkness had long fallen over the plains as they arrived at the northern stronghold. Yuri had heard stories about the nomads, crude and dumb brutes and shepherds, uncultured and restless, with no script and no song. Excelling only in bloodlust and combat. His surprise was big as he saw stone buildings and the sound of horns. The gate that guarded the stronghold was not made out of wood but stone, yet it swung open easily for its Khan.

Otabek must’ve noticed his surprise, his voice a sturdy whisper. “We live with our animals and lead them from one grasing point to the next. While we guard the sheeps and goats and horses, our King, we call him Khan, guards us, the people. This land is too poor to provide us all of the time, so we travel through it in a circle. The Khan, like the sun throughout the year, wanders from one sacred city to the next. There are seven in total.” Yuri didn’t know which reaction was required from him so he remained silent which seemed to suit Otabek just fine.

When the warrior finally descended from his horse Yuri noticed for the first time how stiff his muscles were and shame burned in his face as his legs decided to buckle. He heard Otabek saying something to somebody bevor he gently lead him into the bowels of the stronghold. Yuri felt grateful that he hadn’t been picked up.

A servant with a small lamp lead the way and opened a door, stone again, for them bevor he lit the oil lamps inside. A plate of roasted meat and a strange flat bread was placed next to the cushions on an ornate rug on the floor.

“You’re exhausted. You’ve ridden all day and are not used to it. I’ve talked to my Khan and you’ll be presented to the court tomorrow. Many have turned in for the night anyway. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll have to see to my horse and then I’ll join you with more food,” Otabek told him and turned to leave.

“Do you plan on taking me tonight?” The thought blurted of his exhaustion raddled brain. Otabek looked shocked and offended and took half a step back at the sudden question.

“No. You don’t wish to,” he said and threw a glance over Yuri’s shoulder to see if the servant has exited the room already. “Is there anything else I can bring you?” Otabek noticed the stricken look on his husbands face.

“With the dowry… was there… a cat?”

It dawned to Otabek what the cat meant. “There was, I saw it. But I fear it’s been left behind with the donkeys this afternoon. Don’t worry, my sister stayed with the scribes as the Qasqar. They’ll take care of the dowry. And your cat.” Yuri nodded mutely, obviously not convinced by the answer.

When Otabek returned sometime later he’d already changed into one of the two linen shirts that had been laid out for them. They ate in silence and while Otabek usually enjoyed those moments he couldn’t help but feel awful. Yuri averted his eyes whenever Otabek wanted to start a conversation and as soon as the food had been consumed he pulled himself into the thick furs of the bed and curled up with his back towards his husband; silent and refusing.

\--

Otabek still didn’t know how to approach his husband in the morning but didn’t have the time since they were both called in front of his brother. It wasn’t unlike the meeting just two days ago, Khan Khemebek was now not only fully awake, but also in full regalia. His hair neat and tidy, the sacred sword across his lap and the fur of the dusk wolf fastened with golden and silver chains over his shoulder.

The servants have coaxed Yuri into the wedding gown with hands and feet and he now looked even smaller, kneeling in the ring of his brother’s court, head lowered politely, awaiting to be addressed.

The Khan took his time measuring his latest family member, Otabek, who sat behind Yuri, knew it was one of his brother’s ways to grind a person down.

“I have to be frank with you, northerner. I’m at a loss of what to do with you. While my people do not shy of laying with both men and women, we usually do not marry them. Marriage, as you know it, is to produce children. There are other rituals we can perform to bind us to each other, but we do not call it marriage. Yet you’ve been sent to us as a bride and you’ve been wedded to us as a woman would’ve been. Would you be a woman born to our tribe you could choose to be a warrior or a mother. But you are not. So aside from your role as a token of the pact between High Prince Victor and I… I am at a loss of how you can be of benefit for us.”

Otabek had kept a careful eye on the blond boy and only by the mention of his brother’s name, his left hand had twitched. Otherwise he’d remained motionless.

“Help me out here. You cannot help us nurse the children, can you?”

“No, Khan Khemebek.” There was a mumbling among the court as Yuri’d finally lifted his gaze and the clan leaders and elders could take a good look at his face.

Blond hair was rare enough to make him stand out, but the colour of his eyes drew them in. Otabek heard whispers ‘ _ like the pearls and stones of the south _ ’ and ‘ _ eyes like the sky and the grass’ _ and had to agree with them.

“Can you weave?”

“No, Khan Khemebek.”

“Can you make bread?”

“No, Khan Khemebek.”

“Can you stitch or sew or dye fabric?”

“No, Khan Khemebek.”

The Khan let out an exasperated sigh and Otabek saw many smug grins among the clan leaders; especially those who’d been against an alliance with the North.

“So we got ourselves a little pretty doll,” the Khan murmured and slumped back into his seat. Clearly this was not what he’d been expecting.

“I can read.”

The court bristled to live as this strange looking foreigner had dared to raise his voice without being asked anything. Yuri only continued louder.

“And I can write. I can calculate the worth of a year’s harvest without the need of an abacus. I can speak the tongue of the traders in the South by the sea and the tongue of the East. I have started to learn your dialect one moon ago and I can understand who is in my favour in this court and who is not.

I can fish. And I can fight.”

Shouting broke out around them and Otabek leaned forward and frantically whispered into Yuri’s ear. “Do you know what you just did? We take fighting very seriously.”

“Shut up!” his husband hissed at him but didn’t dare to shake his hands from his shoulder. “I know what I do.” Yuri looked forward again and caught the Khan’s gaze. Khemebek had stayed still as the surrounding clan leaders were shouting at each other and into the Khan’s ears.

“You claim to be a warrior. We do not go easy on those who pretend. You have to prove yourself.”

Yuri stared back at him. “I claim to be a prince, Khan Khemebek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The discussion with Khemebek was something I had in mind for as long as this story idea existed!
> 
> Next up is Yuri's fight for his claim to be a warrior!
> 
> Kudos and Comments give me live :3


	3. CHAPTER 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my thanks goes to my artist Sterndecorum, who also made the moodboard at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Please note that this chapter contains a bloody fistfight.  
> If you're uncomfortable, skip to the first mention of Potya, so you don't have to read about the violence.

“This is not good, Yuri, this is really not good. You’ll have to prove yourself in a fight until one of the opponents gives up and if you give up you’re branded a coward!”

“I know what I did. I also know that Victor instructed your brother to treat me like a wife, like a woman. If I want to make this alliance work I need respect as a working ground and I will not gain this if I spent my time here weaving! Or making bread! Or nursing!” Yuri all but spat those words at him and Otabek found himself at the receiving end of a deathly glare with those beautiful eyes. How so much hatred could come out of something so beautiful was beyond his comprehension, but he could see the fire within them and mutely nodded.

“The fight will be held here in the ring. You may bring your weapons, but other than a loincloth you have no protection.”

“I don’t have any weapons.”

“What?”

“They were stripped off me when Victor decided to wed me off to you! Now be a good husband and organize two thin swords for me. Not heavy ones, it can be longer knives for all I care, but they must be as long as my elbow-“

“No weapons,” a female voice suddenly interrupted them. Otabek and Yuri looked up and Yuri recognized the female warrior from the Khan’s right side during their wedding. Otabek had called her his sister, but he wasn’t that sure how serious that claim was here. That means his dowry had probably arrived in the stronghold, too.

“Sagida,” Otabek greeted her and she answered with a curt nod.

“We cannot have you dying, little prince. No weapons, but the Clan of the Spring has insisted of sending in their fighter.” Otabek groaned at the news but Yuri only nodded at the information. He clumsily tried to wrestle his way out of his wedding gown and asked Sagida for a strip of leather.

Naked except for his loincloth he looked even more like a youth and not like a man. He braided his long golden hair into a thick rope at the base of his skull.

The Leader of the Clan of the Spring had come forth and announced their fighter, who’d test Yuri’s claim on being a warrior. Yuri’s eyes got huge for a moment before he could school his features as he saw who stepped into the ring. He’d later learned that his name was Denra, which translates roughly to “big bear” and it was name that fit. He towered over Yuri by nearly his whole size and was packed with muscles on every available surface. Yuri could’ve sworn his neck was wider than his own hip.

“By the rules of the clans we present the gods and the wolves of the steppe and the stars above us, these two fighters in a Kai to determine the worth of a warrior. Fighters, take your stances!” The same elderly scribe that had called for them earlier, announced the start of the fight.

Yuri went into the circle and raised his fists in front of his face. His opponent did the same. Faintly he heard snickering and chuckles from the side-line. He had to admit how comically this fight must look like, but he couldn’t back down here, he had to focus. His opponent though was concentrated and didn’t try to mock him and somehow Yuri was thankful for that. At least one person took him serious here.

The Clan leader of the Spring must’ve given a sign because suddenly the giant leapt forward, much faster than would’ve been expected from someone his size. Yuri though had seen the look the nomad had received and was prepared. He approached the fist and let himself fall in the last second; crouching down in a sit before he lunged forward, positioning himself suddenly behind the giant. From his bent knees he jumped, using the thick belt of the loin cloth of his opponent as a step ladder and landed himself on the warrior’s shoulders. He encircled the neck with his thighs and clenched hard while he landed the first hit of the fight hard against his opponents nose.

It gave a satisfying crack despite the odd angle and blood sprayed on the big torso beneath him.

The nomad cried out in pain and surprise, his arms trying to break the stronghold of Yuri’s legs, who’d only tightened their hold. Yuri pressed both of his thumbs hard against the eyeballs of his opponent, sending his voice high and loud to the skies.

He didn’t see the fist as it collided suddenly with the side of his skull and momentarily stunned, the lock of his legs weakened and the nomad could grab one foot and all but threw him onto the ground. Yuri didn’t have much time because a giant foot was about to crush his face. He rolled out of range and scrambled to a stand and raised his hands again. He managed to evade two more swings of ginormous fists aimed at him, dancing through the arms and finally landing a hard kick into the kidney area of his opponent. The warrior grunted in obvious pain but used the sudden closeness and swung his fist again towards Yuri’s head, this time hitting him full on and sent him flying to the ground, ears ringing and blood dripping onto the stone.

The difference in strength and power was obvious. While Yuri was the faster and more agile one they both knew it was only a matter of time until the nomad would have worn him down.

Yuri could stand up again, but his movements were slower and he couldn’t fully escape a punch aimed at his rips. Suddenly he felt a searing at the back of his head. The giant had grabbed his long braid and wound it around his fist like it was a golden chain. A kick into his knee sent him down and he frantically tried to claw and punch against the grip that held him. Blood trickled down his head as he heard a metallic clatter. He looked down and saw a dagger by his knees, thrown by the Khan himself. Desperately he lunged for it, straining his arm to reach it in his crouched position. Dagger in the right hand, left one clamped around the fist that held him he swung it and cut off his braid, freeing himself. His opponent was stunned by the sudden action; he and everybody else had expected Yuri to use the dagger on him and not on himself to free him.

Yuri danced back to his feet and brought some distance between them. He threw the dagger to the ground and spat on it for good measure.

“I’m no coward. And I don’t take shortcuts. Can we bring this to an end now?” he asked and stood again in his fighting stance. Denra nodded to him once, acknowledging him before he equally raised his fists in front of his face again.

As much as Yuri wished he could tell it later differently, he didn’t get to experience the end of the fight. Darkness suddenly claimed the edge of his vision and he fell unconscious to the ground before Denra could land another hit.

\--

Yuri was in and out of it for some time. He could remember Otabek’s face leaning over him in concern and somebody carrying him through the stone passages and laying him on the bed.

When he finally regained consciousness for real it was when Otabek put a wet cloth on his forehead, whipping away the blood from his nose and the several splits in his lips.

“Stay down,” Otabek said as Yuri attempted to sit up.

“Please, at least until I’ve cleaned all of the blood,” he begged further and Yuri relaxed with a dark glare. His eyes hurt at the brightness of the open window and he could hear a high ringing tone in his ears, his body felt kind of numb, but he knew that the pain would come soon. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long if Otabek hadn’t cleaned him yet. He wished for solitude in this moment of weakness, a dark spot to literally lick his wounds, but it seems as if there was no escaping his husband. Not now and not in the foreseeable future.

At least his silent nature was somewhat bearable. It could’ve been much worse, judging from what Victor had hinted at him.

Not wanting to think of Victor anymore he sat up as Otabek tried to lift him up and sent him a dark scowl at being touched.

“Here, drink this. Willow’s bark to keep the worst at bay. I’m no healer, but I know how to dress wounds after a fight." Yuri dutifully drank the bitter sap and laid down again.

“I lost,” Yuri mumbled and threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the brightness. It was still early morning after all.

“You didn’t give up.”

Yuri perked up to look at Otabek, the nomad prince regarded him with a strange look. It was curiosity, worry and … admiration?

“You gave them a remarkable fight, even though the odds were heavily against your favours. Denra, that’s the name of the other fighter, is one of the strongest among my people. He doesn’t wish to rule, so he never participated in the battle to elect the Khan, but he could.   
Yet you didn’t back down. You didn’t even use the knife, even though it was given by my brother.”

“If it stops him from treating me like a girl from now on it was worth it,” Yuri shifted in pain and sucked in his breath sharply. “I’m tired.”

“Your head took some punches. Sleep. Tomorrow you’ll have to speak in front of the Khan again, but until then, rest.” He placed the cool fabric over his eyes and the engulfing darkness was enough to send him into slumber once again.

\--

Yuri woke up again in the middle of the night with only a small oil lamp illuminating their quarters. Otabek was next to him in a respectful distance sleeping soundly. Suddenly he knew what had awoken him as the fluffy black and white cat kneaded his stomach more furiously, mewling loudly and head-butting him now that he was awake.

He couldn’t stop himself. The tears came unbidden to his eyes as he hugged his beloved cat to his chest. Everything from the last weeks came flooding back to him and he spilled his frustration and pain into the soft cream coloured fur of the only companion he had truly left in this foreign land.

“Yuri?” Otabek’s voice was spiked with sleep and concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled and wiped his nose quickly on his sleeve only to grunt as pain blossomed in his face.

“Easy,” Otabek handed him a cloth and Yuri numbly registered that his nose was bleeding again.

“How are you feeling?” Otabek asked and Yuri couldn’t help his eye roll.

“Like I’ve been beaten to a pulp by a literal giant?”

“Ah,” Otabek was again at a loss for words. He tried to focus his attention on the cat instead. Only that said animal was all but happy with his gaze and hissed at him. “I don’t think your cat likes me.”

Yuri snorted and sent more blood flowing. His limbs began to hurt really severe and a headache was starting to bloom. “Don’t worry, she likes nobody. Ah, uhm, thank you, for bringing her here.”

“Of course. Does she have a name?”

“Potya.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“Erm can you hand me another cloth?”

“Ah, yes, sure,” this time Otabek had to exit their shared bed and towards the trunks on the wall. When he made it back to the bed, Yuri’d already fallen asleep again. The cat hissed again in his general direction, circled around herself and folded into a neat lump of fur by Yuri’s head.

\--

His face was black and blue, one eye nearly swollen shut and the disaster that was his remaining hair sent shivers down Otabek’s spine every time he looked at the blood crusted and short part on the back. But he held himself high and proud and he wasn’t having any of it as the servants offered him the gown again. He came in the plain breeches and shirt into the hall, his remaining eye twinkling aggressively at the staring court members.

“Otabek, bring forth your husband,” a scribe called out to them. It was the same procedure as yesterday and again they waited for some time until the Khan finally spoke to them.

“You’ve showed us a great fight yesterday, Prince Yuri. Not every Kaskan nomad would’ve fought this honourable like you did. Your claim was a rightful one, you are indeed a warrior,” Khan Khemebek announced and the elderly scribe noted it down dutifully. Yuri could see ugly glances thrown at his direction from the clan leaders that were against the alliance with the northern kingdom of Moscvin. The leader of the Clan of the Spring stood in the line right to the Khan and regarded him with a strange look of frustration and cool calculation. Not matter how the nomads prided themselves in electing their leaders through fight, none of them had yet appeared to be an idiot. Yuri had to be careful.

“I hereby welcome you to the people of the steppe and to my family, warrior Yuri. Keep the dagger I gave you as a gift. May it remind you of your honourable spirit all of the time,” the proclamation was met with cheers. It seemed as if Yuri’d got himself quite the line of supporters after yesterday’s fight. To his scribe Khan Khemebek said “he also needs a horse, please, see to that.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Khan Khemebek. You asked yesterday what could be the benefit of me for your people. The answer is simple, Khan. Aside from my role as a token of trust for the alliance, I’m here to enforce it. Trading routes through the steppes from the cold seas in the north to the green waters in the south have never been established before. I ask you humbly to grant this duty to me. I will proceed to explore and to mark a suitable route for bigger caravans with the help of our joint people. That the people in Moscvin and Kaskan may profit from the alliance and prosper further.”

It were big words for such a small hall and Yuri was sure not everybody had understood him, has he spoken in the general dialect and not the Kaskan language that still eluded him.

“Wise words and I see the determination of your blood in your eyes. We will need to discuss the details in a smaller circle, but for the exploration you have the support of Qasqar Otabek. I’m sure of that,” the Khan finished with a little smirk. Otabek only nodded stoically behind Yuri.

They were dismissed and Yuri’s head was pounding hard by now. “Let’s get you something to drink,” Otabek said and tried to guide him through the people.

The path was suddenly blocked by Denra, who easily filled out the whole hallway. The giant fiddled nervously with the golden braid still in his hands. “Kai Yuri,” he addressed him with the formal title of a warrior, which sent a spark of delight through the small boy. Denra glanced nervously between Yuri and Otabek, looking oddly small for someone his size. Otabek understood and said something to Denra and then to Yuri “I will translate for you. He’s from the Spring clan and they always were very conservative, they don’t teach the common dialect to their children.

“Kai Denra,” Yuri nodded, he had to lay his head in his neck to look him in the eyes. What had ridden him yesterday to think he could beat such a bear of a man.

His voice was gentle yet deep, Yuri got the general gist, but Otabek’s translation confirmed it. “He wants to ask you what to do with your hair. He’s not sure how to proceed since you’re of so much higher birth than he is.”

“Is it worth something around here?”

“That colour and that length? Sure.”

“Tell him to keep it and sell it. It’s his win after all. Tell him: you took me serious when nobody else would. Thank you for that honour.”

Otabek translated it dutifully with a small smile on his lips. Denra’s eyes went huge, but Yuri only nodded earnestly and bowed towards his opponent, making sure to show his bare neck as it was custom in the north.

“ _ Thank you, Kai Denra _ ,” he said in the Kaskan tongue. Denra’s eyes only got wider. “ _ I… learn … speak. But it hard. Not like fight. But I learn.” _

“He says you’re a great man. Despite your size,” Otabek translated Denra’s answer for him and the three men shared a grin. Yuri tried to bow again, but dizziness claimed him once again and he had to rely on Otabek’s steady arm around his shoulder to preserve his dignity.

“I will bring you back into our chamber,” he murmured to him as he steered him away from the giant warrior.

“But the trading routes…” Yuri tried weakly, but the unfiltered harsh sunlight coming through the glassless windows caused him a painful headache.

“Can only be discussed when you’re in your right mind.”

“I am-“ Yuri wanted to protest, but even he had to acknowledge how limp he’d turned in Otabek’s grasp.

“You said you’re educated in numbers? What is the number when you add 13 to 18?”

“Uh…” Yuri’s eyes crossed.

“Just as I thought, your head’s still pretty meddled with. You have to lie down for a while.”

“You can’t tellme what t’do” Yuri slurred and tried to push the other away. The headache he’d felt all day intensified now that the social tasks lay behind him and his mind was filling more and more with fog. Thinking got hard and his eye turned glassy. Otabek only tightened his grip around the smaller man and used his height as a lever to pull him down further into the thankfully dark hallways of the stronghold.

“I’m your husband and I do what is best for you.”

“Ah, sure, sure. Throw me around like your little puppet. ‘M used t’it.” Yuri was pretty much out of it for all his mindless blabbering. They’d reached their chamber and Otabek positioned his husband on the bed.

“Seriously, how could you argue in court so clearly when your head’s still so shaken?”

Suddenly the one visible green eye cleared up from its haze and a manic grin spread over the split lips. “They call you a warrior, too, but I can see you never really had to fight for what’s important.”

The air left his lungs and Otabek felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach. There was this small man, this boy, who’d just been beaten to the brink of death, lecturing him about fighting and the worst part was: Otabek believed him.

Something in those sky and grass coloured eyes compelled him, made him weak and small and showed him the spirit of a warrior he’d looked for for so long.

“Please,” Otabek deflated and kneeled beside the bed. He tried a different tactic, gently guiding his husband back, not that he was met with much resistance. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. The routes can wait. Please heal first. You can’t do this when you’re dead or your mind is crippled.”

The cat jumped onto the bed from wherever she’d been hiding and hissed at him for good measure. Otabek retreated his hand from her master’s chest hastily and stood up. A lopsided grin formed on his husbands face and he started to coo and pet the cat in incomprehensible words.

Otabek fetched one of the cloths and wet it again. Wary of the furry creature guarding and growling he put it on his husband’s eyes.

“Ssgood,” Yuri slurred at the surrounding coolness and darkness, and Otabek watched in fascination how his fidgeting grew weaker and eventually his breathing evened out.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far \0/  
> I hope you like how this progressed and will also read the future chapters!
> 
> Even if Yuri was wedded away like a woman would've been, there's no way he wouldn't demand to be respected xD
> 
> Comments and Kudos keep me going!  
> Also if you want to chat, you can always contact me on Tumblr under the same name :D


	4. CHAPTER 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks go to Sterndecorum who made the moodboard for this chapter <3  
> WIthout her input this wouldn't have been taken the shape it has now \0/

It took Yuri three days of sleep and Otabek’s care to get back to health. The window of their chamber was blocked with a beautiful woven carpet, pouring the room into twilight.

Otabek knew that Yuri was back to his former self (not that he knew that much about his husband, he had to admit to himself) when he asked him for a mirror.

“I fear we don’t have one in this stronghold.”

Yuri frowned deeply at that. “Only one mirror per house? I’m sure there was one included in my dowry?”

Otabek didn’t miss the slight pause before the word dowry, but dutifully produced a slip of sheepskin where the contents of the dowry had been listed. Otabek had copied it from the original list when Yuri had asked for his cat.

“There is no mirror listed here,” the Kaskan said and couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut when he saw the betrayed look on Yuri’s face.

“I saw them putting one in here…” he mumbled more to himself before he straightened again. “Can’t be helped. Do you maybe have a clear pond or a polished shield where I can cut… whatever is left on my head?” he gestured to the golden birds nest on top of his head, now even more tussled due to the long sleep.

“Uhm, if you like, I can cut it,” Otabek offered after staring unblinkingly at him for several seconds.

Yuri cocked a harsh eyebrow. His second eye was visible again, yet the left side of his face was still an ugly cacophony of blues, greens and purple spots. His look stated he’d all but thought Otabek capable of handling such a task, yet he handed him a pair of finely ornamented silver shears and sat in front of him.

Otabek searched for a bone comb and started to detangle the blond tresses, Yuri hissed in pain as he crazed the part where Denra had ripped out a whole chunk of hair.

“I’m sorry. How do you feel today?”

“Good. You’re the Khan’s brother, right? Can you arrange a meeting for discussing the routes?”

“You’re really eager, are you?”

Yuri turned around and regarded him with a look as if he’d lost his mind. “This route, this alliance, is crucial. My people are dying. There is a huge war in the western kingdoms. The east is rumoured to close its borders to retain their blood. There is no other way but to go straight through the plains. Why do you think our marriage was so rushed? Because we were madly in love with each other?” At the end his voice was dripping with sarcasm. Otabek sighed and guided Yuri’s head to face forward once again to cut the hair in the back evenly.

“I will speak with the head scribe as soon as I’m done here,” he promised. “And after that we get to the stables.”

“Why?”

“To get you a horse. The Khan has stated after your fight that you’re a warrior and that you need to get a horse. By the rites of my… of our clan you’d usually get a fowl within your tenth summer and had to break it yourself in order to become a warrior, a Kai. But since you came to us already a Kai I figured it would be alright to give you one that’s already broken and trained. Do you know how to ride?”

Yuri tensed under his hands. “I’ve been taught.”

“Didn’t you own a horse? Or do your princes not ride on horses?”

“We… I mean… there were several horses at the palace where I used to live. I’ve been taught how to ride a horse in a parade and in battle. But I never owned one specifically.”

“What a strange custom,” Otabek said and started to comb again through the now short hair. “Here we bond with our steeds. At least my… our clan does so.”

“Is this why you’re called the Clan of the Horse?”

“Yes.”

The stables weren’t that big, Otabek explained that most of the horses lived with the other Kais, who guarded the herders and their animals that were grazing on the vide plains surrounding the stronghold. The northern stronghold had only space for the Khan’s court and even then it was crowded. When the Khan would move along in several moons only scribes and monks would stay behind.

Yuri’s hand went through his hair again he couldn’t remember when it’d been that short the last time.

“You said your clan mostly has horses and sells the milk of your mares, but then how will you be a help for the alliance?”

“Yuri, do you know why there has never been a route through the steppe?”

“Sure, the terrain is hostile. No rivers or water sources as to speak of in the middle. You need a guide to make your way through it, but a war between our people two centuries ago left suspicion and prejudice in our minds that it was unheard of to reach out to you. Besides, the roads through the Western Kingdoms are well known end even though you have to pay taxes at every border the success rate of a single caravan is high.”

Otabek looked at him with strange eyes, it was unnerving and tugged at something inside of Yuri making him nervous and fidgeting all of a sudden. It was as if Otabek was debating if he was either stupid or just ignorant.

“Yes, you are right,” he replied in an even tone.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and he eyed the man, his husband his traitorous mind reminded him once again, from head to toe. “There’s more.”

Otabek gave the smallest of nods. “There is.”

“Care to explain it to me?!” Yuri crossed his arms in front of himself, clearly getting annoyed.

The dark eyes first roamed the tiny huts and tents erected in the middle of the stone-built courtyard before glancing over the sky. “Not here,” he said and shook his head. Yuri made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Stupid superstitious barbarians,” he muttered to himself, using the dialect of the northern sailors.

If Otabek understood him wasn’t determinable by his face, he went over to the huge door of the stables, wood this time, and opened it. Immediately Yuri’s nostrils were filled with the unmistakable scent of horse.

His husband nudged him inside and led him to a compound in the back where several colourful horses stood, munching on hey and eying the intruders curiously.

“So, which one is mine then?” It was the first time Yuri consciously saw the little smile appearing on Otabek’s face, usually he only saw it disappearing whenever he looked his way.

“I don’t know yet. We have to let them chose.”

Yuri’s face soured but he made an effort not to snort. This was obviously some very important act for the nomads, for which he failed to bring up the patience to understand. Sure, horses were important, but he didn’t see why he had to be chosen by one just to ride the damn animal!

Otabek shoved him in between the horses and closed the latch behind him.

The animals all turned to him, some skittering off to the back, some craning their long necks in his direction.

“And now?”

Otabek just waved him to go further into the den. “Make some friends.”

“I don’t have friends.”

Now it was Otabek’s turn to frown. “You have me.”

“You’re my husband, not my friend.” Yuri’s voice was pure venom, yet Otabek refused to back down again.

“I don’t see why I can’t be both,” he offered with what he hoped was a gentle smile.

Yuri though averted his eyes with some cussing. “Don’t get the- hey! Cut it out!” One of the horses had been curious enough and had started to gently nip at Yuri’s short blond hair. It stepped back a little by his outburst but wasn’t swayed.

“My hair’s not hay!” Yuri yelled and took a step back. The horse nosed his head with vigour, blowing the fine strands with its breath. The boy tried to shove the long head away before he saw Otabek holding something out to him.

“Here, take this,” he handed Yuri a small gnarly apple, which instantly drew the attention of the horse away from his hair. The animal munched happily on the fruit and Yuri finally got time to pet its snout.

“I don’t think you’re that bad at making friends, Yuri,” Otabek said from the side.

“Shut up,” Yuri said, but couldn’t put some heat behind it. The horse, a light brown mare with a white spot on her nose, had started to nuzzle Yuri’s clothing for more apples but didn’t seem too disappointed to find none.

“You have to name her and then she’ll be yours.”

Yuri looked the horse in the eyes. “She’s way too straightforward and doesn’t have a sense for boundaries. I’m naming her Mila.”

“Take her out; you need to ride her around the stronghold once."

\--

Afterwards Otabek took him to the scribes again and they dutifully noted down the name of the horse. He’d accompanied Yuri on the same dark grey stallion that they’d shared on their ride home after the wedding. The vastness of the surrounding lands calmed his mind like only the ocean used to do.

“See, Yuri. You have the title of Kai and a horse. You’re already a nomad.” Yuri saw through Otabe’s act. He despised the man for all he stood for, but he’d never showed him anything but kindness. Even out of obligation, it was nothing he’d took for granted, yet nothing he would trust easily ever again.

“Really, Otabek? Take a look around. I don’t belong here.”

And really he stood out like a sore thumb. The fine features, the light complexion. But Otabek wasn’t swayed, he’d felt Yuri’s love with the land during their ride and he knew (hoped) his husband would find peace here.

\--

It took Yuri three days of nagging and mind numbing boredom to finally get an audience with the Khan. He’d come prepared, presenting the inner circle of the Khan a time plan and budget plan for what he’d needed to establish a route. His own maps were outdated by at least a century and it appeared as if the nomads didn’t use maps like they did. Every clan had a family of knowledge keepers, people who would teach their descendants the routes of their people.

So he had to make his own maps.

The counsellors an tribe chiefs had showed themselves more flabbergast and impressed by his plans than he’d anticipated. He didn’t know if he should feel smug or angry because he’d been obviously that underestimated

“And these are?”

“Tools to navigate by the stars,” Yuri’s finger twitched as the brutish looking clan leader of the Clan of Rain took his brazen instruments in his thick hands. Victor may’ve showed his cruel side again when he’d removed the mirror, but he also genuinely believed in the alliance so the tools had remained.

“We too travel by the stars, but we don’t use them to make maps,” the man said and took the tool closer to his face.

“I see nothing in these that I have to discuss, your demands are granted. Of course you have to take Qasqar Otabek with you, otherwise you’d be dead within one week.” Khan Khemebek said as he finally looked up from Yuri’s papers.

“I know I may appear weak and I appreciate my… husband’s company, but I’m sure I would also be fine on my own. Though of course I’m grateful for every help in this joint agenda.”

“Oh, no, I don’t doubt your capability, Kai Yuri, but the routes you’ve proposed brings you dangerously close to several dens of the Dusk Wolves.”

“I’m sorry, Khan Khemebek, the what?”

Instantly the atmosphere in the small chamber dropped.

The lights of the flames flickered and Yuri felt as if a cool breeze had touched the freshly shorn back of his head.

“Otabek!” Khemebek regarded his little brother with a sharp gaze. The remaining men and women were alternating between offended and scared.

“He’d asked about them. But we were standing in front of the stables under the open sky.”

The Khan narrowed his eyes and Otabek lowered his gaze respectful to the ground. “See to it that he understands our believe. This is crucial. He can’t die, there’s too much at stake.” He turned to Yuri again and after having spoken in the Kaskan dialect to his brother he switched tongues again for the foreign prince. “Prepare your exploration, Kai Yuri, you’ll receive notes that ensure your safety and support whenever you may cross path with our people. May the sky and earth bless your enterprise.”

\--

With the Khan’s blessing and more importantly with the Khan’s gold, Yuri went to work to collect the supplies for his exploration. He was able to gather a lot of insight about the lives of the nomads, clashing with vendors, chasing after children too curious with his blond hair and lightly sparring with other warriors during the afternoon.

Otabek his ever present shadow throughout the day and during the night, was offering translation and clearing up whenever needed, otherwise he was a silent companion. Yuri found it hard to really read him.

After several days they were finally able to depart. Yuri had instructed Denra vividly on how to take care of Potya after the giant had agreed to look after her.

Their route first lead them north-east towards a stream, which they’d be following for the next days. They departed in the early morning with the Khan sending them off. Their travel was silent most of the time, Yuri too enthralled by the vivid green of the lush grass around them this time of the year.

The couple reached the river in time, clear icy cold water gurgling over white stones, like a vein cutting through the grass.

Yuri left Otabek to his own devices to set up the yurt for the night, claiming to search for firewood. He bound the legs of their horses together so the two wouldn’t wander too far when they slept and started a fire from nearby driftwood. They had fresh meat from the stronghold so no hunting was required this night. He hoped to wake Yuri in the early hours of the morning to tell him the legend of his people.

Yuri was taking his time though and worry started to seep into him. With one last glance towards the small fire he set off upstream.

The sun was setting in gold as he darted through the thorny shrubbery and as he finally reached the riverside he forgot how to breathe.

At the fires of his youth the elder people told stories about the star wanderer, children that carried the lights of the skies with them wherever they went. They were as dangerous as they were beautiful and Otabek was sure he’d just encountered one.

Yuri was standing naked in the stream cupping the icy water and letting it run in little glistering rivers over his pale chest before he took a deep breath and dunked under completely. He re-emerged after some seconds and drew deep breaths, chuckling lightly to himself by how affected he got by the cold water. He combed his short hair back, falling flat against his skull, making him even more ethereal and unearthly. The white canvas that was his skin glowed golden by the setting sun, the water running glittering and blinking in invitation to Otabek.

He must’ve made a sound or tiny movement, because Yuri’s head whipped around to his direction. With a startled gasp he dunked down and Otabek covered his eyes upon the naked form of his husband.

“I’m sorry!” he said, swaying lightly in his sudden blindness. “I was worried why you took so long!”

“I wanted some time alone! Is that so hard to understand? You’ve been breathing down my neck since my brother dumped me into your lap!”

“I’m sorry!”

He heard Yuri scoffing. “Why are you covering your eyes? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Open them before you break your damn neck!”

Otabek did as he was told and found himself in the vicinity of that fierce green stare only fuelled further by the glow of the now blood red sun in his back.

“I-I-I’ll just go back to the horses! Please! Take your time!”

Yuri snarled audibly as he let himself fall back into the river as Otabek stumbled away, beet red in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can admit that this was a more boring chapter, yet it was neaded to set everything in place for what's to come.  
> Otabek is so smitten with Yuri, it's not even funny anymore and Yuri's still such a brat x'D  
> It's my guilty pleasure to write him with all possible ellbows and scratches and hisses <3
> 
> Kudos and Comments always encourage me, so please feel free to tell me your opinion on this chapter! <3


	5. CHAPTER 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks goes to Sterndecorum, who gave me a lot of input for this :D

“The earth is our Mother and the sky is our Father and all that is between them are their children. They formed this world that we live in and when their work was done they took the light of the stars and formed the guardians, the wanderers that were to keep the balance of this world. The last thing our Mother and Father formed before they fell into their eternal slumber in order to preserve what they created, were us humans. The last children.

For some time the star wanderers guided us as we were made after their image. They showed us which animals we can tame and which we can hunt. They showed us how to cultivate and how to walk this world.

Our world is just. There is love and compassion and hate and envy in it. Like our Mother and Father everything is in balance.

Our guardians were very beautiful for the light of stars shone in them. But humans were soon greedy to own that beauty.

Darkness bloomed in the heart of some and even if the wanderer are strong and skilled the humans with darkness were cunning and traitorous and got a hold of the fairest and most beautiful of the guardians. When the star child tried to escape its imprisonment to the skies where it came from, the human with the darkest heart drew his sword and buried it within the holy body.

There used to be no night in the first days of our world, the sun and the moon, the firstborn children of our Mother and Father, would alternate between giving us light and warmth. But now the night poured out of the wound and over the man and now there is darkness in this world as there is light. The moon had witnessed the vile act and in horror and shame he hides his face for most of the nights.

Grief was big and the cries of the other star wanderer howled across earth over the loss of the brightest star. In their despair they forsook their little brothers, the humans and departed to the skies where they came from. They left us and we are now without guidance since then and only during the time of their grief, during night, we can see their light.

A handful of the guardians saw that it was the work of one and a handful of them remained on earth.

Many though were consumed by their grief and became one with the night and since then are out to hunt us humans.”

Yuri stared bleary eyed at him, hair tousled from sleep and face grumpy to be awoken just before dawn.

“The star wanderer that became one with the night changed their form, growing teeth and claws, stars dusting their dark fur.”

“This is all very poetic and all, Otabek, but why are you telling me this now and why did we have to get up so early? This is by far the most you’ve ever said to me in one go.”

“The thing that my Khan wanted me to tell you, what you were asking about when you got Mila…”

“Yes?” Suddenly Yuri was wide awake. He’d pestered Otabek about it at least once a day but the Kaskan had always refused to answer him.

“Deep within the steppe roam wolves.”

“Yeah? I know those, they life in the northern woods as well.”

“No. They don’t. We call them Dusk Wolves and we believe that they’re the descendants of the star wanderer that were consumed by their grief. Those wolves hunt exclusively for humans and even though they live in small packs a few of them is enough to annihilate an entire village within one night.

They can be one with the shadows and they are hard to kill.

This is the true reason why nobody ever tried to travel through the plains. The chance to be eaten by the wolves is just too high.”

Yuri stared at him with a calculating gaze. “Right.”

“Whenever somebody crosses the path of a Dusk Wolf, it will attack and devour the human. Sometimes though they sense a related soul, they sense that we were once brothers. They do not attack those humans and they can walk among the wolves. And whenever one of them is among a family or tribe, they can wander the steppe in peace.”

“So there are like… chosen people?”

“We call them Qasqar, which means ‘little Wolf’ in the ancient dialect of the central tribes, that do not wander around.”

“Your brother called you that, too.”

Otabek nodded. “This is the main reason I was chosen to accompany you on your quest. I’m not really sure my Khan had planned that you would take matters in your own hands, but anyway, I, as your chosen husband, am crucial to the success of the trading route. A lot of responsibility was put on me.”

“Boo-hoo, poor prince, taking responsibility for his people.”

Otabek furrowed his brow in confusion. Yuri’s words sounded like an accusation.

“Is this the first major task you’ve been given by your King?” Yuri asked him with a sneer in his voice.

“I’ve been a warrior since I’ve been able to hold a sword. I’ve fought many battles with the plundering hordes from the eastern kingdoms”

“Hacking and slaying as you were told to do.”

“It kept my people safe at night!”

“I see the difference between the title of prince now, Otabek. You say you’ve fought many battles, and I believe you, but I don’t think you’ve ever had to really fight for what’s for the greater good for your country.”

“I’ve killed men to keep my family alive, Yuri, don’t belittle that.”

“I’m not. But what are the lives of a small village compared to your whole people? Don’t you see the importance of the trading route? Or why do you wake me at this unholy hour to tell me fairy tales?”

At this Otabek’s gaze darkened. “It’s not a fairy tale, the wolves are a real threat and I’m telling you about them in order for you to survive. You mustn’t under any circumstances wander from me at night. The only time it is safe to talk about them is in the first light of the day as their power vanishes with the night.”

Yuri’s eyes widened as if suddenly everything made sense to him. Otabek’s relief was short lived though.

“All I hear is a reason for you to keep an closer eye on me. But don’t worry, it’s not like I can run anywhere. I’m under no illusion I would end up dead in the steppe without your guidance and it’s not like I have anything or anybody to return to.”

Anger bubbled up in Otabek. The boy in front of him bent the truth to his liking, hearing only what he wanted to hear. A small voice in his head couldn’t help but wonder where all of that distrust came from.

Taking a deep breath Otabek forced his anger back. “This is not true. I care about your safety and the success of this alliance. I can see my people stagnating in the old ways and a tree that stops growing dies. We need these trading routes as much as you do. I have no intention of… chaining you to my side. We are in this exploration together but you need to rely on my experience with the land to survive here. Be it from the dusk wolves or the other dangers that reside here.”

Yuri scoffed once more. “That remains to be proven.”

“You’ve said you don’t have anywhere to return to. This is not the first time you said something like that. I thought I was entering a marriage, but for you it’s more like banishment?”

As soon as Otabek had voiced his question he saw it was the wrong move. If Yuri’s face had been guarded before, it was downright closed off by now. The green blue eyes blinking dangerously and the plush lips in a thin and angry line.

“If you want to tell-“

“You’re my husband,” Yuri interrupted him with a cold voice, “and nothing more to me. That status entitles you to my body. But not my memories.” And with that he exited the yurt leaving Otabek alone in the dim light that filtered through the fabric.

\--

Their travel that day had been the worst so far. Usually Yuri would talk to him when he wanted to stop, getting his papers from the saddlebag and drawing something on his map or marking down notes in his little notebook. Today though he remained silent and on more than one occasions Otabek had turned around to see Yuri had stopped without telling him, letting Otabek wander aimlessly alone.

Otabek braced himself for an equally frosty night but when the fire was finally alight and the little kettle was bubbling with dried meat and roots over the fire, Yuri approached him with an olive branch of his own kind.

“I need to cart the stars. There’s no moon tonight and I can’t carry all of my tools myself. Come with me.” He didn’t know if Yuri really took Otabek’s warning serious or if it was just the northern Prince’s way to offer peace. Nonetheless Otabek dutifully took the delicate instruments carefully in his hands and they marched some paces away from the fire.

“Do they teach all your princes how to make maps from the stars in the north?” Otabek asked carefully. Any question regarding the blond man’s past was bound to set him on edge so he hastily added his interest in the topic. “We believe the stars guide us, but it never occurred to me to use them like this. They wander over the night sky like my people do. Your skill is fascinating.”

“Most stars wander, you’re right. But some don’t. Do you see this little light? When you take the constellation of the bear and add three times its neck, you’re there.”

“Yes, I see it. We call it the Old Man. Because it’s light is so weak.”

Yuri scoffs again, but this time in amusement. “My grandfather would be offended if he ever heard that name. The star is the guiding light for all sailors out there.”

“You’ve been to the sea then?” Otabek couldn’t help but ask with a little awe in his voice.

“A long time ago,” Yuri said but his voice was timid and Otabek knew he wouldn’t get any more answers from him if he prodded further.

“What lies ahead of us in this direction?” Yuri asked after some time and pointed towards the south east. By day they could already see the mountains that heaved themselves into the air, in the darkness of the night they were invisible though.

“The Bear Mountains, as we call them. I’ve heard they’re rather small compared to what lies further south, but one of the stationary tribes lives there and they heard goats that can walk the steepest cliffs.

Before them though lie the Thorn Lands. Thick thorny bushes grow between high boulders and sharp stones. It’s a rich ground for hunters, though horrible to find your way through.”

Yuri scrunched his nose, something that Otabek found suddenly adorable. His husband was beautiful if he thought nobody was watching him.

He studied his maps scowling deeply.

“I have the … Bear Mountains, you called them? I have them on the map already. But judging from my calculations we need to pass this thorny land. Or should we navigate around them?”

“We should. It’s like a maze in there, but my ancestors travelled to the mountains for generations. The lands are marked with care. And…”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t get mad, but… the Thorn Lands are uhm dangerous because of what I told you this morning and please don’t say anything!” He hastened to add as Yuri was about to open his mouth.

He made a sour face but straightened his back as he put his instrument back into the box. “Of course. It seems important to you and it’s unseemly of a prince to belittle the beliefs of others.”

That was at least better than his reaction this morning even though Yuri’s refusal to believe him worried him deeply. Especially if they had to pass the Thorn Lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing the creation myth for this story, though it was a lot harder than I anticipated.   
> I took influences from several mythologies like christian, greek and nordic (the titans and the act of one lone person, the guilt inherited throuht mankind, the all devouring wolf) and put it together in Otabek's monologue.
> 
> THere are a lot of ideas and background information that didn't make it into the story. E.g. that Qasqars are prohibited to take money for joining groups of nomads when they wander through the steppe.  
> This is one of the main reason Khan Khemebek had such a hard backslash from some of the more traditional tribes, because the main point in the alliance was that the Kaskan's would lend a Qasqar to every caravane that would pass the steppe. Of course in exchange for a hefty price, which is (even if you call it taxes or tokens of goodwill or such) payment and this clashes with their believe. But adding a religous conflict would've put the focus off Yuri and Otabek.
> 
> As always Comments and Kudos are a great source of motivation!  
> If you want to talk you can always write to me on tumblr. I'm also KuraiOfAnagura there! :D


	6. CHAPTER 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my partner in crime Sterndecorum, who motivated me a lot while writing this!  
> This is the leading sequence to the final chapter and as always I struggled to find a connection, but I hope I managed anyway

During their time on horseback they’d formed some kind of truce, the Kaskan prince was not probing further and the Moscvin prince doing his best as not to lash out. Otabek and Yuri had to leave the river and now wandered over grassy land that lay in gentle waves around them. White and chalky earth peaked out wherever the green was broken open.

In the 4 weeks of their journey they’d only once encountered other humans, a farmer and his family on the way to another stronghold. Their relief as Otabek introduced himself as Qasqar hadn’t gone unnoticed by Yuri. The farmer and his two sons had handed them another full ration of dried meat for the two nights Otabek had agreed to make camp with them so they could sleep through the nights again.

The Bear Mountains came closer and closer with every day and even though he was used to the nomadic lifestyle he’d never went with such a long ongoing travel and Otabek was looking forward to the stronghold nestled between the cliffs. In order to fill the gaping silence between them Otabek felt compelled to tell Yuri everything about his people that came to his mind. He’d never been good at talking and it painfully showed whenever Yuri snorted or rolled his eyes when Otabek had to backtrack his story.

It appeared to Yuri that there was so much nothingness in the plains that the nomads were constantly fighting, probably because of sheer boredom. They fought with savaging tribes, the eastern kingdoms, northern troops, southern pirates and mostly amongst themselves.

In reality Yuri knew that the big herds of goats and sheep and cattle were a lucrative treasure to fight over, but he could be hardly coerced into thinking about the plains as something different than banishment and prison.

Some part of him longed to confide with the Kaskan warrior, but a dark and ugly pit in his stomach revolved whenever he thought about trusting another person ever again. If Victor had taught him one thing then it was best to fight alone.

Yuri noticed how restless Otabek had been all day and he’d braced himself for the worst when they set camp for the night. Yuri knew by now that Victor had fed him way too many prejudices and fake whispers about the Kaskans to frighten him, yet Otabek surprised him once more by his polite excuse for privacy once the yurt and the fire were put up. They were close to the Thorn Lands now and the nomad hoped they could reach the settlements in the mountains within the next two days. Their supply on firewood was running low in these grassy lands, but he didn’t dare to use the thick thorny branches from the scattered bushes as fuel. Those bushes only grew denser if they’d decided to wander far east, ultimately forming a mace of thunnels and dead ends. Game was plentiful in there, but only a handful of hunters dared to go there. Next to each bush there were little pillars of flat stones stacked high; the warnings of his ancestors not to pass further. Every stone the symbol of a human devoured by the wolves.

Otabek stroked the fire upon his return. Night had settled at last and even though they could still see the last traces of the red dusk the bright half moon was visible in the sky already. Yuri sat huddled next to the fire, glaring at him from under his uneven bangs.

“You do know that you can just take what you want, right?”

Otabek’s eyebrows shot up in a silent question.

“Vi- some of my people had to explain it to you. How this marriage works?”

“I’m pretty sure my brother knows the details but he’d never confided them with me.”

“Then what are the orders of your brother on how to handle me?”

“Why do you ask this now?” Otabek couldn’t hide his confusion.

Yuri fidgeted nervous from side to side. “Don’t play stupid. You’ve been edgy all day, I know what your loins desire.”

Otabe flushed a scarlet colour Yuri hadn’t thought possible of the usual steadfast men.

“You don’t even deny it! Maybe I should tell you what these kinds of unions are about?”

Otabek was speechless.

“When a son is too dangerous for the imminent heir of the royal bloodline he’s going to be disposed of. But people die fast and suddenly and it’s blue blood after all, which means it might be useful and you can’t just kill off a royal when you’re not one yourself. So they force the unwanted sons into the role of woman. They sell their autonomy, their rights and their heritage to the best match.

I’m not allowed to own land or stock or treasure apart from my dowry, I’m not allowed to speak against you or to defy your wishes. I’m not allowed to cast my vote, to use my voice that is my birthright or to finish any kind of business that is not ordered by my family or my husband. I’ll never be able to ever sire children…” His voice ended in a sad note and Otabek suddenly knew what this was all about.

_ He’s afraid _ , he thought suddenly and clearly. He’s afraid and bored out of his mind and so far away from home and was probably fed nightmares and lies and now wants it to be over with so he can at least pretend to have some kind of control.

“Yuri…” he tried in a soothing voice.

“Don’t you dare to pity me! I don’t need your honeyed words to disguise the bitter truth!” Otabek had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. One thing he’d learned about the blond man was that he tended to be overly dramatic when genuinely upset.

“I’m not going to pity you. I just want to explain to you that I don’t want to bed you. I did what was required of me during our wedding night out of responsibility, but that doesn’t reflect on my true feelings or character.”

“Don’t you dare to talk to me about responsibility! You know nothing about that!”

Now it was not the first time Yuri had hurled this accusation at Otabek but it was the first time he got really angry about it.

“Well maybe I should act how you oh so desperately want me to act and order you to tell me why you’re so damn angry all of the time? Or how you’ve ended up in this marriage? Would this be the excuse you need to finally open up?!” It was hard for someone as fair as Yuri to pale but in the warm yellow light of the campfire his face looked positively ashen. Not for long though, because within the blink of an eye his eyes turned into slits and his face grew red in rage.

“Don’t be mistaken,” he hissed low and dangerously. “If I wouldn’t know how many people could die by my selfishness I would’ve killed myself with the wedding knife making sure to ruin Victor’s favourite robe with my blood!”

Yuri jumped up in agitation and Otabek suddenly feared he was about to rush out into the night.

“Yuri-!” But as he extended his hand to grab the blond man's wrist he hadn’t taken his agility into account. Yuri crouched down fast, took a hand of ash and threw into Otabek’s face. Momentarily blinded it was easy for Yuri to evade the outstretched arms and he made his way out of the circle of the fire.

“Yuri!” Otabek called, blindly feeling for the water pouch. “Please! Don’t run off! It’s too dangerous!”

With his sight gone for the moment Otabek felt fear. They were too close- His stomach dropped as he heard the unmistakable howl of a wolf. One very far away but which was suddenly answered by a higher one, way too close. He heard the thumping of paws against grass, a snarl, a sudden cry and then the night was deathly silent again.

He finally found the water and washed the ash out of his burning eyes. The world outside of their camp was pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri, can you plz try, I dunno, not to be a little... what's the word? ... shit? :/
> 
> Writing this was so hard. Why did I chose to write about teenagers in responisibilities way over their heads?


	7. CHAPTER 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without Sterndecorum, who gave me so much input, this wouldn't have been possible <3

Otabek tried to breath. And failed at that. He knew Yuri was not dead yet, he just knew it. But he also knew that his chances for retrieving him were slim to none. He might be a Qasqar, somehow recognized by the wolves as their little brother, but that only went so far as not be attacked by them at night. Never before has a human returned, Qasqar or not, from confronting the fallen wanderer. You’re tolerated by them, your family and livestock are spared, but if you try to search them out, you’re as dead as any other human.

Usually the wolves leave the remains on one's family’s doorstep once they’re done with them.

But Otabek didn’t really have a choice here,as much as Yuri thinks he’s a weakling who just got lucky, he does in fact know what’s on the stake. And he’s in no illusion, as hated as he may be, that High Prince Victor would cancel their alliance if he found out his little brother had been killed in the wilderness. And that was the best outcome. Aside from that he doesn’t know of anybody who would bring the same set of skills like Yuri to find a suitable route through the plains.

And somewhere in his heart, if he’s honest enough to listen to it, Otabek isn't sure if he could ever be with someone different than the blond prince.

He’d never met a fighter more determined and firey than Yuri.

He shed his weapons one by one until the only metal on his body was the buckle of his belt. With a longing look he left the torches by the fire, stroked his horse one last time and took a deep breath before he led his steps guide him eastwards.

Even by the odd chance that they’d both survive this, Otabek had to make sure he did everything in his power to save his husband. The elders told that a half moon was the sign of possibilities, of fate to change. All Otabek was thankful about was how much light it cast tonight. Soon he was enveloped by the thick thorny shrubbery, towering over his head, casting deep pits of shadows thanks to the lights in the sky.

The thorny bushes gave way to a little clearing and in the middle of it sat a wolf as if it were expecting him.

The Qasqars hair stood up and a cold prickle went down his spine. His hands were wet and he couldn’t help the trembling of his limbs. It was as if he suddenly was seven years old again and couldn’t even hold a sword.

The wolf though was the same as in his memory. A pitch black fur, dusted with little white glittering glimmers dancing among the thick long strands. Eyes cold and bright and white like the stars.

The beast was huge, its shoulder easily reaching Otabek’s chest. But right now it sat on its behind, daring Otabek to proceed forward or foolishly show it his back while retreating. Either way Otabek knew he was beyond any point of return.

Otabek did none of the things though but sunk down on his knees, putting his bare hands upwards on the dusty ground and dared to look the wolf in its eyes. If the legends were true and right now Otabek was willing to believe everything, the wolves used to be sentient beings and hopefully it would be able to understand him.

“Honourable wanderers of the night, forgive my trespassing of your land. At the beginning of this night you’ve taken my bonded husband. I know for what is claimed by you is yours rightfully, but my duty and my heart dictate me to come to you. Please know that this boy with sun coloured hair is very important for the people that live in these lands as your brothers. If I can provide you with my life in order for his to be spared, please take it.” And Otabek lowers his forehead to the ground, baring his plain neck.

The wolf snorted.

A rather grounding sound for a spiritual beast. Otabek looked up in confusion and saw how the ginormous wolf stands to all fours and shakes its whole body, sending the little constellations in its fur in uproar until they settle again in their eternal place. With something like awe Otabek can see the same pattern in the wolfs fur as in the night’s sky.

The wolf turned around and trotted in a distinct lazy manner to the other side of the clearing. Otabek was at a loss of what to do. The creature was obviously inclined to let him go but even if it didn’t attack him as soon as his back was turned… he just couldn’t go back.

The dusk wolf came to a halt before he reached the darker shadows and turned its massive head around. Otabek could swear that the audible huff was laced with the command to follow. Carefully he got on his knees and proceeded slowly towards the dark beast. It waited until Otabek had about halfway crossed the clearing, its starry gaze fixed on the frightened man, before it faced forward again and made its way onto the lean path that lead them deeper into the shrubbery.

Otabek couldn’t help the startled gasp. As the wolf set foot onto the closest shadow it was as if it dove straight into the ground.   
A movement further down the pathway draw his attention and it was as if the wolf had just appeared in a pit of shadow back again. So there was truth to the myth after all that the wolves were one with shadows.

Otabek could do nothing more than to follow. When he tripped once and took too long to get up again the wolf snarled impatiently at him, a sound that chilled him to the bones.   
He didn’t know how long he followed the beast, the twists and turns of the thorns made it impossible to keep his sense of direction. Though the stars twinkled overhead and he wished he had Yuri’s skills.   
Yuri.   
The thought of his temperamental husband made him following the wanderer even when he stumbled over the first human remains of a past victim. Most of the times the beasts leave the disemboweled corpses to the families, but sometimes people vanish completely. Now Otabek knew what happened to those that got dragged into darkness.

He didn’t know how long he’d been following his guide, time was hard to measure, but he was sure by the tiredness of his feet that half of the night had to be over by now.

Just when he doubted the wolf would lead him anywhere he noticed that the thorns grew thinner and that there was low grass under his shoes and no hard stone. The wolf rounded one last bush and as Otabek followed him he was standing in another clearing, much vaster than the one at the entrance of the Thorn Lands and with a big and gnarly tree in its center. He couldn’t see if it still bore leafs or if it was dead already, but its huge roots were twisted over a grand boulder, forming a natural cave that lead deep into the bowels of the earth.

Otabek could see the glowing star like eyes within the cave, but what really drew his eye was a group of the wolves, all snuggled together in a huge pile in the middle of clearing, right in front of the tree.

Otabek’s spine went cold and his breath just didn’t want to come. He’d vowed to himself he would not struggle in fear of angering the god like beasts. He would take his punishment for trespassing like the honourable Qasqar that he was. He only wished he could’ve seen Yuri one last time.

As if summoned by his hesitation the wolf that lead him here, he was sure of it as he’d memorized the constellations on its fur, appeared behind him and nudged him forward with its big head. The wolf was surprisingly warm to the touch, hot even, yet the gentleness of the gesture was not enough to calm his heart.

Suddenly the furry dark limbs in the pile shifted, movement broke out; sluggish and tired as if just awoken. And there, in the middle of this sea of black shone one thing like the brightest star in the sky.   
A massive wolf rolled onto its back revealing the slumbering naked figure of a human.

Otabek would recognize this hair everywhere. And right now in the middle of the beasts of night it shone like starlight descended to earth.

His feet took him forward without him even noticing and before he knew it he was within arms reach.

Yuri was equally stirred by the awakening wolves and his brows twitched in dawning consciousness. It was obvious how unconcerned he was by the deathly beasts for he yawned vigorously as he slowly sat up.

“Otabek,” he said and his voice was heavily laced with sleep and a hint of surprise. “You’re here.”

“Yes.” He didn’t know of anything else to say. His gaze strayed from Yuri to one of the wolf’s who’d just placed its head into Yuri’s lap. Its cold eyes stared up to Otabek as a threat.

“I like cats the most,” Yuri said, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was still dreaming. “But they are also very good. Once I found out they love to cuddle it was easy to make friends.” Yuri underlined his words by scratching the pitch black ears. The wolf closed its eyes in what Otabek read as delight.

“W-” he started but the fear had numbed his tongue. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Why a-are you here?”

Yuri exhaled in mild confusion and took a look around as if he became aware of his surroundings just now. Not for the first time Otabek wondered if Yuri was either still asleep or tranced by some kind of magic.

“You came.”

“I-”

“Your soul is scared. They are sacred to you and your people and you fear them like the night. And yet you came after me.”

“I did. Yuri.”

Very slowly he extended his right arm in an offer to Yuri. He carefully watched the jaw under him, the wolf’s eyes had become slits.

“Am I here to take you back, Yuri?” Yuri looked at him with those big shining eyes. Under the pale moonlight they looked washed out and unnaturally light, there was no green of the steppe in them anymore. Only the silver of the stars.

“That’s your role, Otabek.” And with that Yuri took his hand and stepped out of the pile and onto the sweet grass.

Otabek didn’t know where his clothes wentere, but he knew he would start shivering as soon as they’d left the clearing. So he took his black mantle from his shoulders and wrapped it around Yuri. As soon as the pale skin was covered he felt movement behind them. The wolves were obviously heading out as well.    
Otabek couldn’t stop the tiny yelp as he felt hot fur under his fingers and was sure his heart had stopped beating when the wolf that lead him here put its head into his palm.

He didn’t know who lead whom. Sure, his arm was strong around Yuri, and he’d held his hand and walked in front of him, but deep down he knew he was just following the jumping and wandering shadows and somehow he knew Yuri was leading them.

Their way back went by in a heartbeat and before he knew it they stood in front of their fire again, know reduced to glowing embers and the wolves of the steppe prancing around their camp. The two horses stood strangely calm next to the yurt.

“The sun will rise soon,” Yuri said in the same dream like voice and stepped once again out of the circle. The black wool slipped down from his shoulders as he knelt down and took the head of the biggest wolf in his hand, pressing their foreheads together.

Whatever their silent communication was, it ended as soon as it begun and when Yuri stood up again Otabek felt the shadows dashing away from them back into the direction of their cave.

“The sun will rise soon,” he repeated and took Otabeks hand. He lead him into the yurt and pulled him down with him onto the furs. Otabek pulled the mantle over them both and Yuri settled down with his forehead pressed against his and he was sure he could feel the lingering heat of the Dusk Wolf.

He’d never been as afraid as in this night and he thought he’d been never able to close his eyes again, but as soon as Yuri’s breaths started to even out sleep claimed him in it’s leaden clasps.

\--

As always Otabek woke up before Yuri and everything seemed like the same as every other day on their journey. Only Yuri’s nudeness was testimony of last night’s events to be real.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping man Otabek rolled out from under their joint blanket and got up.

It was strange, he felt as if he’d slept a long time and yet it was only half an hour after sunrise. The gnawed through water bag though gave him the indication he needed to see that they’d slept in fact for one whole day and that the horses had become thirsty.

He debated whether it would be reasonable to get the fire going again or if they should just break camp and try to reach the mountains within the next week. The entrance flap of the yurt opened and Yuri stepped out. His hair mussed on one side, his movements stiff, but his eyes sharp and green again. The sight of the colour soothing the Kaskan like nothing else.

Otabek took two long strides to cross the distance between them, enveloping his husband in a strong grip.   
Yuri reciproked the hug.

They sat down next to the empty fireplace and shared a cold and dry breakfast.

“What happened after you left the fire…?” Otabek was the first to break the tension, but Yuri only shook his head. He had to cough a few times before he could reply in a horse voice.

“Maybe one day I will be able to tell you.”

They stayed silent afterwards again until the sun crept higher in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri suddenly said.

“”For what?”

“Why did you come for me?” Yuri asked instead and ignored his question.

“For one you’re my husband. I’ve sworn to protect you as you protect me and if your life could be saved I had to make sure. And I know that without you this alliance, this route will be set back for decades to come and I don’t know if we’ll still be a folk by then. I don’t know for your people’s intention, but I can see it: without any growth or prosperity we will just fight amongst each other again and break up and maybe vanish for good.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuri repeated.

“You said so already.”

“I… I shouldn’t have doubted your determination or your… sense of duty. You came for me even though I… we… . Because it was your duty. I… I know I have high expectations and standards. What I expect of myself I seek in others as well. And I know my judgment was … clouded by … the circumstances of our… union. But you’ve showed me that your sense of rightfulness is the same as mine. And that is some common ground I can see this marriage growing.”

“I’m glad you do, Yura.”

“You.... you showed great courage yesterday. I want to tell you, but I don’t want to tell you… and I don’t want to appear weak. Because I am not weak!”

“You cuddled with Dusk Wolves, Yuri, that is not weak, believe me,” Otabek chuckled in amusement. He was glad his hissing and spitting husband was back to his former self. The white creature he’d witnessed that night was a thing of such beauty it was blinding. But it was also devoid of love or emotion. Like a star. It saw it all and yet did nothing.   
He much more prefered the sharp tongue.

“Shut up! I just wanted to say, if you really want to know, I can tell you how I got in this… predicament!”

Otabek smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the discussions Sterndecorum and I had were about wether to take big cats (like the panther from darkmoor) or wolves (we wen't with the wolves, obviously x'D)  
> She was for wolves, but I somehow wanted to include the cat theme (Potya hasn't moved at that point with Yuri and as a Biologist I really struggled to make big cats pack animals, since Lions are the exception of the rule x'D)  
> So this sentence “I like cats the most,” Yuri said, his voice barely above a whisper as if he was still dreaming. “But they are also very good. Once I found out they love to cuddle it was easy to make friends.” - was born xDDD
> 
> The wedding scene and this one stood from the very beginning. I build stories around scenes or pictures I love, this just works best for me :3
> 
> Please let me know how you liked the chapter or the whole story.  
> I cannot tell you how much comments brighten my day and inspire me to do more!


	8. CHAPTER 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally what we've all waited for! Yuri's finally telling Otabek how he got into that marriage \0/  
> It's thanks to Sterndecorum that I gave Yuri's backstory so much thought! <3

Yuratchka’s life had always been a simple one. Of course helping his grandfather, who was a fisher, was hard work for such a small boy and he was crestfallen when his Mama had died after she’d cut herself with the fish knife and the wound festered, but all in all he was happy where he was.  
The days would begin before the sun even rose. He and his grandfather would sail out of the bay on the small boat his family owned, the boat he would man once his grandfather was too old to do so. They would haul in the nets they’d prepared the other day, collect the fish and scatter the thin ropes in another location for the next day.

Some day’s though he wished he could be a sailor, like his grandfather used to be in his youth, to sail the vast see. So far out that he couldn’t even see the shore anymore.

Life was simple for little Yuratchka, it was for the first eleven years of his life until a silver haired stranger on a white horse road into their little fisher village by the grey northern sea.

He was the most beautiful thing Yuratchka had ever seen until know (that didn’t count his Mama of course) with his even face, his long silvery hair and the glittering and ornamented clothes he wore. When he smiled down from his horse on Yuratchka he suddenly felt a shyness he’d never experienced before.

“You must be Yuri, yes?” The stranger asked him and Yuratchka felt his face go red by being addressed by such a divine thing and he dashed back into their cottage before he could make a fool of himself.

The stranger followed him though and as soon as his grandfather saw him he stumbled to his feet, bowing deeply. Yuratchka didn’t know what the two were talking about, but even before it was noon, his grandfather gathered him into his arms and he felt hot tears seeping into his hemp shirt.

“My name is Victor, little Yuri, and I’m a prince from the capital.” Yuri gasped, which painted a smile on Victor’s face. “You can call me Victor, though. Because you, too, are a prince. It’s my job to take you with me to the capital and make a good prince out of you. One, who will help our people and our great nation!”

Goodbyes were said, his belongings trussed into one little bag and suddenly he was hoisted behind Victor on the white horse. He sneaked his thin arms around Victor’s waist and tried his hardest not to sniffle too much.

“Your grandfather is a honourable man, little Yuri. It takes guts to threaten a member of the court, but I appreciate actions fueled out of love. He made me promise to look after you and I fear his wrath, so be assured I’ll always have your back.  
What do you know of your father, little Yuri?”

He knew nothing about his father. It had always been just him and his mother and his grandfather and sometimes a cat and then only him and his grandfather.

“Your father is the King of this country, little Yuri, the Tsar. I know, it sounds too fantastic to be true, right? But it is true! Your mother worked as maid in the household of a lesser noble in the town by the sea. When our father visited said noble he fell for your mother’s beauty. He told me the story many times. He knew about you and made sure you were placed on the list of possible heirs, but couldn’t dare to separate a child from his mother and so he let you two be. But now is the time for you to claim your rightful place in the court!”

The palace turned out to be a huge stony cottage and Yuri had to hide his face in the fabric of Victor’s back with all those people around them in the densely populated capital.

He was handed from a pair of arms to another and yet another. Stripped and bathed and shushed around and fed and suddenly disposed into huge chamber with an even bigger bed, softer that anything he’d ever felt (except his mother’s hair in his memories). Left alone for the first time, dressed in frivolous laced night shirt, Yuratchka curled around himself as if he were a cat and sobbed.

“Ah, Yuri, Yuri, what’s wrong little brother?” It was Victor who’d appeared from yet another ornamented door, dressed in a similar nightshirt. “Oh, it’s been too much today, right? It can be scary, I know.” He tried to sooth the little boy further and rubbed gentle circles onto his back. When he tried to get up the little fist had hold tight onto his shirt and with a gentle smile Victor scooped the boy up and tucked him into his own bed. He knew how old Yuri was theoretically, but the small frame, light body and blond hair made him appear so much younger. It also didn’t help that the boy was frightened beyond believe and hadn’t said anything to anybody today at all.

“What about it, Yuri, we make a packt? Whenever you’re frightened you come to me. And whenever I get scared I will come to you? So the both of us are looked after, right? Oh, and can I call you Yura? You can call me Vitya, if you want. We’re brothers after all!”

The next day Yuri was again handed around, dressed in stupidly bright colours that only washed him out (or so Vitya had proclaimed) and brought before the King.

He didn’t know what to expect, the Tsar had always been a grand abstract figure he knew existed, but never really thought about him as a person. The old and frail man though was not what he would have imagined him to be. The Tsar was propped up against thick cushions, strapped with soft bands of fabric so he wouldn’t slide down. One eye, as blue as Vitya’s, was sharp and calculating, yet the other side of his face was sunken in and dull.

“My Tsar, father, I brought to you your youngest son, Yuri Aaronovitch Victorevitch Nikolayevich Nikiforov,” Victor said and steered him closer to the old man. “Yuri, this is your father, Tsar Aaron the second.”

Yuri (who didn’t know he had that many names; at home he’d always just been Yuratchka) decided to focus on the one eye that was actually looking at him. He inhaled with an audible rattle to the lungs and while the right side of his body remained limp, the movements of the right side was awkward and stiff. But the frail touch as the old man put his trembling hand on Yuri’s head was gentle and caring and Yuri felt a lump in his throat. The Tsar mumbled something in a slurred and incomprehensive way Yuri didn’t understand, but Victor bowed his head and said “I’ll tell him.”

“He told you that he’d wished for your life to remain a simple one. This is probably why he’d allowed your mother to raise you alone,” Victor said as soon as they’d exited the Tsar’s chambers. “He’d called for his servant during the night, stating of feeling faint and disoriented. He went back to sleep with the servant holding watch by his side and the next morning he’d lost feeling in his right side. This has been a year ago and even though he and his mind are still alive, he’s unfit to rule. The court holds the power in the kingdom and the voices with the most gravitas are those of royal blood. Like you. The situation is dire. This is why you’ve been summoned here, we need your voice and your strength to lead this land until we find a suitable Tsar.”

\--

“Ooooooh, he’s so cute, Vitya!” The red haired woman squealed as Yuri and Victor entered a room Victor had called the informal royal salon. Inside where several people all dressed very fine and all of them had the same light eyes.

“I’m not cute, baba!” Yuri hissed as the redhead tried to cuddle him, he hastily hid behind Victor who only laughed.

“Oh, so you do have a voice! And I was beginning to wonder if you were mute! Yuri, these are your siblings, all of us are sons and daughters to Tsar Aaron and members to the court of Moscvin. The one that’s trying to hug you is Mila, over there by the fire are Dimitri, Anastasia and Georgi. And this is High Prince Alexey. Our other siblings are currently occupied, but all in all we’re nine with you.”

“He’s quite young,” Anastasia said.

“The old man has always been active, we have to give him that,” Dimitri added. “And with a commoner women nonetheless.”

“Like your mother wasn’t a lovely whore herself,” Georgi coughed with sweet smile.

“Enough,” Alexey, the High Prince, current leader of the curt and appointed heir of the throne, intervened. “Yuri, welcome to the castle, little brother. Victor, make sure he’s getting the best education so he can a great help in court.”

“Of course,” Victor bowed.

Yuri missed his grandfather dearly but his education was keeping him and his mind occupied to the extent where he all but fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Most nights though he still woke up and sneaked through the doors that connected their rooms into Victor’s bed.

Yuri was taught how to sit, how to eat, how to write, ride and fight. He was a sullen kid, but with a bright mind that his tutor’s soon recognized and reported with delight to both Victor and Alexey.  
He also spoke more, even though he mostly grumbled and snarled in which Victor and particular Mila took their delight. The three of them formed the closest bond within the royal siblings.

The nation of the northern woods was in a deep crisis though. For three years now a plague roamed the country. The people died like the flies left and right, whole villages were left deserted, crops rotting on the fields nobody would harvest. The cities fared worse, if possible. The plague came in wave after wave like the moon and left pale spots on its victim’s skin. Caravans were refused entry on several border cities and trade was laying bare. Worst of all without a true leader the court was tearing itself apart over pettiness and greed. The royal children ought to hold together but the rule of heritage, where only one son could inherit the title of his father, only fueled them to fight each other.  
Yuri was eleven years old when he was brought to the palace, at 12 he was formerly introduced to the court and given a voice equal to the rest. Only the High Prince and the Head of Court, an old man named Yakov who sometimes gave Yuri lectures on politics, had a voice stronger than the others.

Yuri’s first true taste of how life was within the castle was when Mila disappeared. While women weren’t allowed to participate in politics at all the daughters of the the Tsar were valuable chess pieces that held the promise of a royal heir in their wombs. They were prices that were fought for an won and while Mila was a strong woman with an independent mind she must’ve angered the High Prince with her speech of autonomy.  
Two rivaling houses were fighting over Mila’s hand, both with suitors Mila had refused in the past and in the end Alexey decided nobody would get her.

Yuri’s heart was heavy when Mila told him and Victor that Alexey was sending her to a port town further up north, where she should be a beacon of royal hope for the plague laden city. Yuri felt sick when he realized it was just a thinly disguised death sentence.

The night Mila left the two brothers curled up together and it was the first and last time Yuri saw Victor crying.  
When Yuri woke up the next morning a chambermaid brought him a kitten with a red bow around its head. It was a creamy colour, with black paws and a black face. The maid stated how it was a present of the late princess for him to have companion in her stead.

The week after Yuri asked for the permission to visit his grandfather. After all the small village by the sea was only a few hours away on horseback and under the disguise as a commoner the prince could visit his dear grandfather. He wept at his feet and the old man held him close, drying his tears.

“Oh Yuratchka, how I wished life would be easier for you.”

“Grandpa, if you knew how it would be in the palace, why did you hand me over to Victor in the first place?”

“Because if you were to live here I’m sure you would’ve withered like a flower without water. And just think about all of the things you can do!”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how much we’ve struggled? You saw how poor our village is, you saw how weak the rest of the country is. Your sister was taken from you and you fear the same for your brother. But Yuratchka, you have to realise that you are indeed in the position to change that. And I trust you that you’re going to do good.”

\--

Time processed and Yuri was gaining more and more attention in the court. He was sharp witted and had a silver tongue, which many came to fear. His intelligence only helped him gaining favours and enemies alike. Georgi, the second oldest after Alexey, had been caught to politically undermine the High Prince and while it could be read as treason and was a reason to execute him, Alexey decided on a punishment far more humiliating. He stripped Georgi of his manhood, castrated him and married him to an old widowed general as it has been ancient custom.  
The old Tsar had not practiced it on his sons, yet with Alexey as the leading force in court nobody was stopping him.

“I’ve vowed to your grandfather to protect you, but you have to help me here, Yura!” Victor was adamant as he explained his plan to overthrow Alexey’s rule. “I’m the next on his list and after that, who’ll look after you when he turns on you? You have to trust me here!”

The plan was simple and diverted any guilt off Victor. The oldest and the youngest prince were discussing the possibility of new trading routes, Yuri had approached the High Prince with a request on why a route through the southern steppe was not possible. While Alexey didn’t take Yuri serious just yet he saw the potential in the boy and thus far he hadn’t tried to aim for the throne.  
The princes both consumed the same sweet juices and fruit in the library as they discussed history and geography until the younger voiced how faint he was feeling. Yuri could all but stand from his chair by the fire, before he collapsed to the ground. Alexey called for help before he, too, started to feel his heart pounding in his chest like a bird trapped in a cage.

Before evening fell the news have travelled through the capital that both High Prince Alexey and Prince Yuri were victims of an assassination attempt through poison and that currently the lives of both young men hung on a silken thread. Prince Victor was unconsolable as it was no secret of his close bond with his treasured youngest brother and he’d called for a witch hunt on the assassins. By morning Prince Alexey had succumbed to the poison, yet Prince Yuri’s suffering still held on. Victor was announced High Prince that day during court and his first action was to revoke Anastasia of her rights in the royal court and banished her to a remote island, for she’d been found guilty of hiring the assassin. After five more days the healers were happy to announce that Prince Yuri would probably pull through and was able to make a full recovery.

“This palace is a place full of monsters,” the young Prince said as his brother was visiting him in the infirmary. “It’s like you said, we need to look out for each other. I don’t strive for the throne, I only want to work hard to help our people. I’ve been gifted with the position to do better. The only right thing I can do is to try and save this country. For that I’d do anything. Even take poison for you, Vitya. So do your best and become a great king. I trust you with this. Just as I trusted you to give me the antidote in time.”

Change started to waft through the nation after that with Victor as the new de facto leader and the support of the youngest yet brightest of the Princes.

Yuri though saw it in his duty to research new possibilities for trade. The main wave of the plague appeared to be over, yet there were reports of minor outbreaks here and there and the danger was still present. But news of wars between the scattered western kingdoms came to them, soon their borders would close again or even worse increase their taxes. The eastern kingdom was murmured to close all borders permanently and soon only the trade by ship would be their only reliable source of income. And if Yuri had learned one thing from his grandfather it was how frickle the favour of the sea could be.

He’d tried to press Alexey on that matter and now he hoped Victor would have a more open approach to appoint somebody to explore a trading route through the Great Plain.

“They’re all but a bunch of barbarians, uneducated and blood thirsty, I don’t know why you’d bother with that idea, lad,” Yakov had told him gruffly as Yuri had tried to bring up the topic again. He’d just turned 16 this spring and life in the castle had made him a hard man with an even sharper tongue, but an iron will that even the gruffest members of the council had come to fear. Only with his brother and cat he was seen on a softer mood and an open smile.

\--

The day that would decide his destiny had come without big fanfares. He’d prepared to held a speech in order to sway the court members to at least think about the idea of exploring southern routes. The situation had grown dire again for the kingdom, with a war between the ever meddling western kingdoms going on and the eastern lands closing off their borders and probably preparing for just the same. Yuri got up, prepared himself for court (he’d been adamant from an early point on that he did not need somebody who would dress him or worse clean him, thank you very much), grabbed his folders and pet Potya before he went an grab some breakfast.

Much to his surprise Victor took his side after his speech, though his mood would soon turn sour.

“I have to agree with Prince Yuri here, what he’s proposing is a very promising solution of our problems. Also I’ve gotten word that the Khan that had been elected last year is a young man with an open mind who’s interested in his country’s progress more than in upholding their old grudges. Khan Khemebek’s men are as fierce warriors as they’re bloodthirsty and if it truly may come to a war with the east, I’d rather have them on our side than fighting against us.”

“This is true. While our records have broken off considerably after our last battle with the nomads I can say safely that their number could be the turn of the tide. Also a more direct route to the southern ports is a more direct connection to the silk trade.”

“Though we need to give this task into capable hands,” Victor mused, apparently deep in thought.

“I’ve done some research, High Prince, and found a number of possible candidates. All of them well versed explorers and traders,” Yuri pulled a sheet of paper out of his folder, but before he could hand it to Victor he waved it away.

“I fear that won’t do. Khemebek is said to be a prideful man, he values his family and tribe bonds dearly.” Victor sighed deeply as if in pain. “As much as it pains me, we have to appear as if we’re extending our hand. We must offer the Kaskans a token of trust. Something valuable.”

“Then what do you have in mind, High Prince,” old Yakov asked from the other side of the still empty throne. By now the old Tsar had lived far beyond anyone's expectation, but Yuri’d been in his father’s chamber last week and it already reeked of death. He remembered that smell well.

“I’ve heard that Khemebek has a younger brother, who he holds very dear. He’s nicknamed the Golden Brother by the nomads and maybe he might be the key that opens our negotiations. Yuri, I want to offer your hand in marriage to this Kaskan prince.”

Once as a small child Yuri had broken through the thin ice sheet of the frozen sea. The water was not deep, only going to his hips, but the coldness he’d experienced back then was the same that flooded him now.

“W-what..?” he croaked and from the corner of his eyes he could see several court members smirking as well as some older man who were enraged. “I-I’m not sure that this is a wise decision. I’m way too-”

“But you’re the obvious choice here, Yura. You can navigate by the stars, are versed in politics, geography and languages. You’ve been educated in trade and cartography and diplomacy.”

“You don’t want to speak against the High Prince, do you?” Yakov cut in like a knife. Yuri had felt cold before but now he was hot, angry and full of rage. He knew what Yakov was implying. With the possibility to marry him off he’d forfeit the throne forever but if he spoke against Victor’s decision now it would be seen as an open declaration for the crown and thus antagonizing the High Prince. A suicide for sure.

Yuri brought his trembling hands to his side, his back straightened and his searing eyes bore straight into his brother’s. He was calm and collected, a beast ready to jump its prey. “Of course not.”

\--

“What the hell, Victor!?” Yuri all but barged through the door that connected their chambers, his face ugly and red and his voice raw.

Victor though, remained calm and composed. “It is what it is, Yura. I really think of you as the most fitting person for the job.”

“But then you didn’t have to marry me off! That’s bullshit and you know it! The nomads don’t even wed men to men!”

“Then call it two birds with one stone?” For the first time Yuri noticed how cruel and cold his brother’s eyes truly were.

All breath left him. “What…?”

“It’s true, you were very useful in the past…”

“Useful? I took the poison willingly so you could become High Prince! I did it to make YOU Tsar! Not to shorten my way to the throne!”

“You say that now, Yura, but will it stay this way? You’re way too smart for your own good. One day you’ll realize that maybe here and there you could handle things better than me, and then?  
No, Yura, I’m not dumb. Like I said, you were useful and fun while you were innocent and easy to lead, but I fear you’ve grown just a tad too much. It’s like with kittens. They’re all cute and fun to play with while they’re small. But once they grow up? You drown them.”

“You can’t do this to me, Victor! After everything I’ve done for you!?”

“Oh, but I already did,” he pointed to a official parchment next to them on the low table. Yuri recognized his full name. “This document strips you off your manhood, your royal title and erases you from the list of heirs. And before you try to burn it, that’s the copy. The original is already signed by the court members.”

As fiery as his rage burned, it was doused in a single moment, leaving him weak and faint. “You… you planned this…”

“I did.”

“How… how long were you thinking of doing this?”

“Khan Khemebek and I are in contact for nearly half a year now. We’ve finalized the deal yesterday. Currently he may think of you as just a token, but I really mean it when I say you’re the only one capable of the task. And I know you’ll do as I ask. Not because of me, but because you’re just such a faithfull prince, who wants to do better for his people.”

“Why do you do this to me? Victor? Have I-?”

“Because that’s the way things are, Yura, I didn’t make the rules.”

“Potya.”

“What about her?”

“Please…. let me keep her…”

“Of course I will! Oh, and don’t worry, I haven’t ordered to castrate you, maybe we’ll need your seed in the future. Because after all, you’re my favourite little brother.” Yuri’s mouth was filled with ash, his heart splintering in many pieces upon those words.

“I will kill you for this,” he all but whispered, his body not able to do anything else.

“No, you will not. You will spent the rest of your life with the savages of the steppe, living in muddy huts and be a good husband, after you’ve completed your task with the route of course. And now go to bed, we’ll depart tomorrow with your dowry on the first light. Oh, and Yura, consider this my last lesson to you,” Victor finally stood up and tugged the stiff boy against his chest. With a low murmur he whispered into his ear, “Never trust anybody.”

\--

“And did you? Aim for the throne, I mean?”

Yuri shook his head and let it wander over Otabek and then the landscape. “No. Maybe. I’m not sure. Victor was right in that point though, if I’d deemed him unfit to rule I would have probably tried so. But not at that time.”

“You’re remarkable man, Yuri,” Otabek said and Yuri had to laugh at the raw honesty in his voice.

“I don’t know. All of my life I’ve just been a puppet.”

“Maybe. But I can see it, you have iron in your bones.”

Yuri huffed again. “Old man Yakov said something similar when he saw us off. He was like a second grandfather to me, yet I cannot blame him. Not really. He did what he thought was in the best interest of the country. Not like Victor who took delight in using and backstabbing me like that.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Oh, that? He said that he saw that my eyes were not the one of a follower but of a leader. And that there lies a beast sleeping within me and he fears if it ever might awake it will burn everything to the ground. Maybe that’s what the wolves saw in me as well.”

“Qasqar means little wolf or young wolf in the ancient tongue. Maybe they see us as part of their pack. But Yuri, I think you’re something much more special.”

“I don’t feel special at all,” Yuri confessed, twirling his fingers through the thick grass. Otabek sensed there was more and remained silent until Yuri was ready share it.

“You know, when I was a small child I wanted to be a sailor. Because I loved the feeling of the sea all around me. The vast area, ready to be sailed and explored at my hearts whim. Instead I’ve landed in a sea of grass. And even though I’ve landed here through betrayal and it’s filled with shadow monsters and brooding husbands… I’ve come to think… maybe it’s not so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for Dark Victor! \0/  
> And I cry it out shamelessly to the world!!!
> 
> So this was actually the end, only the epilogue is missing :")  
> I'm really really sad, tbh.  
> I've thought about extending a delted scene into a little sequel to this, so I won't let this world I've built go to a waste.  
> Would you like to read about it?
> 
> As always: comments and kudos make the world to me!  
> Believe me I say: a little comment can make an auhtor's day and will bring your next chapter faster!


	9. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this is it.  
> Wow, feels kind of strange to bring something to an end on which you've worked for so long and so hard :')  
> It's been an amazing ride and I want to thank the Mods from the Otayuri Big Bang for creating such a project and my friend Sterndecorum, who created the amazing art thath I can include in this chapter!
> 
> Please visit her blog and watch her amazing art! http://sterndecorum.tumblr.com/

Ten years later 

“My Lord, you’re worried.” The silver haired man next to him smiled tiredly and tired he was. “I’ve sensed you tossing and turning around all night, my Lord.”

“I can hide nothing from you, can I, my love?”

Katsuki Yuuri, the personal concubine of the Tsar of the north, blushed deeply at those words.

“I care about you, my Lord,. Deeply so. So please, if there is anything I can do to soothe your soul…?”

Victor’s lips tried their best to form a loopsided grin, but they both knew he managed poorly.

“My love, my Yuuri, I feel death approaching.”

“My lord? Is it a sickness? Should I fetch for the healers?!”

“Sh, sh, no, my love. I fear death is coming for me in the form of a golden haired boy, armed with knives from the past and poison cooked from my own mistakes,” Victor gently cupped his lovers face, trying to pull him back down towards the sheets with him. Yuuri went with him but couldn’t stop trembling even as Victor kissed the top of his head.

The Tsar couldn’t believe his luck in situations like these. After his wife had passed giving birth to their third child, finally a daughter, he’d vowed to remain unwedded in honour of the partner he’d lost. While they’d never been joined by love they understood each other in their sense of duty and gave the kingdom a heir and a possible replacement should the plague return.

But when the delegation of the far eastern islands had visited his court four years ago and gifted him with gems and treasures from their land among them was a dancing bird, dressed in feathers and silk, coming to him in a gilded cage. Victor would never forget the moment their eyes met, the white colour of the dancers face, contrasting so sharply with his red painted lips. He’d fallen for him and it didn’t last long and Katsuki Yuuri became the personal slave of the King, worshipped and hated equally as if he were queen.

Usually he could let got of all of his sorrows when he spent the nightly hours with the man that held his heart, but today not even Yuuri could dispel the sorrowful thoughts.

Tomorrow the King of the Nomads would visit the capital of the North for the first time in over three centuries. Khan Khemebek had been re-elected by his people and their trial by fight. By their joint forces the people of the north and the plains had flourished thanks to the vein of the trading route and Victor would be forever remembered as the king who saved their country after the plague, made them rich and strong again and the king who shook hands with the savaging nomads, cultivating them and bringing their culture over the borders. A bringer of peace, truly. Nobody would write down though how his hands were tarnished by blood. How he had to curse his soul, slayed his brothers in order to come to the position of power that would enable him to do all those good deeds. At some nights he would shoot awake by his nightmares and only Yuuri’s warm hands in his could convince him his skin was not red and dripping.

Of course he couldn’t be sure, none of his spies was able to confirm it, but Victor was sure that among the entourage of the Khan would ride the same golden wolf that he’d seen in his dreams. A beast wrangling his throat between its teeth.

“Did you know I once had a brother that was also called Yuri?”

“You never told me, my Lord.”

“Tomorrow the Khan will arrive. Please stay with me.”

“Of course, my Lord. I will stay with you for the rest of my life.”

Victor sighed tiredly, this was exactly what he’d feared.

–

The sun was shining brightly and he could smell the warmth in the morning, the day was promising to be a beautiful one.  
From beyond the gate of the royal courtyard he could see the dust of many riders and soon the sound of horses was calling for the arrival of the nomads. After the first rider bearing the crest of the steppe the Khan himself entered, by their custom leading his people like a shepherd. Victor couldn’t bring himself to look at the Khan, his eyes fixed on the inpouring warriors, Khemebek’s finest or so he’d promised.

When he saw a flicker of gold under one of the helmets he knew for sure.

–

Katsuki Yuuri was born and raised a slave as had his family had been for generations. The fairest and most skilled of the slave lines owned by the Shogun of the South. He’d been trained in the arts of dance and the bed starting from a young age, yet he’d never been able to shake his shy demeanor and had been branded damaged goods. His use though would come as he’d been informed that he would have to be given as a gift to a king on the mainland in a far away foreign land. He’d been drilled in the harsh language as they traveled through half of the continent and when he was finally presented in rich clothes to the one that would own him he accidentally gave his heart away in the same moment.

When he had to say goodbye to his family and the western shores he’d felt a fear of the unknown so great he couldn’t even breath. His heart hammering in his chest but no air could be forced into his lungs.

Never again had he felt that afraid. Not when they’d been attacked on their journey and also not when an assassin had tried to force her way into his Lord’s chambers.

But today, as he stood on the left side behind his Lord (never on the right, that was the place of the Queen and even though he might be treated as such he was under no illusion that he was nothing more than a beloved whore) he was suffocating again. Because he’d locked eyes with a beast in the skin of a man.

The foreign King, or Khan they called him, had shouted a command and the soldiers formed a passage for him to march through. The warriors all wore different armours and helmets yet they all had sheared sides and long hair in elaborate braids. The sign of an undefeated warrior or so he had been told. Their eyes were lined with coal and they followed their Khan as he passed them. Yuuri didn’t know why, perhaps it was the lone golden colour in the sea of brown and black but he was drawn to this one warrior and it was only the flicker of a moment that their eyes met. But the fear was back and Yuuri couldn't breath.

So this was the death his lord had spoken of.

Everything happened as if in fog. The kings clasping hands, the fanfares of victory and prosperity cried their song.

Yuuri knew he was overstepping the lines, but the despair inside his heart was commanding him. So when they passed the arch that lead inside the castle, Yuuri desperately clasped his Lord’s arm.

Instead of scolding him Victor bent down and put and arm around his shaking shoulders, leading the way into the great halls. “My love, what is wrong?”

“My Lord! Among the warriors…” fear was clenching his throat but he clawed and gasped until the words came out. “There is one among them that is no human. He’s a monster in the skin of a man! Never have I seen such eyes!” He knew he was speaking his own tongue, but Victor understood him nonetheless.

“I know. And he’s here for my blood. Promise me to be very careful, my love. He’s dangerous and cunning and smart. I’m prepared to die by his fangs but I couldn’t bear it if you’d be hurt in the process.”

And with that he was released from the hug and dismissed. The grumbling old court members threw him poisonous looks and he was forced to stay behind as the two kings entered the hall. The warriors outside only breaking their formation when the standard bearer shouted another command.

–

Yuuri was a wreck. He was no stranger to constant anxiety and fear in his youth, but he’d never passed the hallways of his old or new home in such a state of distress.

Since the nomads were housed in the castle he felt constantly observed, their beings bleeding into his consciousness. All throughout the day he felt haunted. He tried to stay in their chambers, but was filled with a restlessness. He tried wandering the gardens, but he’d felt too exposed. It was a surprise and a relieve at the same time when he was finally jumped from behind, a strong hand settling against his throat with the promise to snap his neck at any given moment. Much to his surprise it wasn’t the golden beast that had attacked him, rather with the unnatural green eyes he met brown ones and with a startled gasp Yuuri realised that there were more wolves among the men than he’d initially realized. This one was an animal of the wild trapped on two legs and while he didn’t emit the stench of night like the golden beast Yuuri felt danger and death and teeth against bones.

“Please, if it spares my Lord, kill me or take me now. I offer myself in his stead.”

The dark eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” he said in surprisingly clear Moscvin tongue and strangely enough Yuuri believed him. The man might be a being of the wild but like nature itself he was honest. “It is not my call to accept that offer. Though I can tell you, as honourable as it might be, it’s not going to be heard. My husband is out for blood and his claim, I fear, is a rightful one.”

“No!” now he gasped and struggled and thrashed in the nomads grip, but it was all in vain.

–

Victor was drenched in sweat when he finally could call the first feast of many a night. The whole day he’d conversed with Khemebek, his warriors silent and dangerous at his side all time. A show of strength and wealth of course, not that Victor had been any better. When Kings meet it was like two peacocks showing off their feathers. Only that these feathers could cut and kill.

He’d regretted dismissing Yuuri that early in the morning but the man had been frightened by his brother’s look alone from the very first moment. One of the reasons Victor treasured his lover was the ability to see what was beyond the mere eye.

“Yuuri?” he called into his chamber after he’d finally dismissed the servants.

“You’re calling for the wrong man.”

Victo whirled around. That was not the voice he’d been prepared to ever hear again. But there, in the light of the dying embers of the fireplace sat his brother, regarding him was an almost bored look through half lidded eyes.

But it was not the brother he’d sent away all of those years ago. Before him sat a man in his prime, a warrior at the peak of his strength and very well aware of who and what he was. He must’ve reached Victor’s height by now, his limbs long and graceful and his face still as beautiful as he remembered it. Now though he didn’t see the beauty of a kitten, but the deadly grace of a wild cat in his brother’s face.

Suddenly Victor's throat was dry and even though he’d convinced himself up to this moment that he was prepared for what was to come, he couldn’t help but feel small and light and so very much afraid.

Yuri leaned forward in the chair lighting the oil lamp on the small table and for the first time this day Victor could look him in the eyes. Suddenly he knew what Yuuri meant by calling him a beast clad in human skin. It was as if the creature within his brother had awakened, the one he’d sensed all of the time in their youth, the one he’d feared.

“Yuri,” he said and by the way his brothers eyes light up the other was delighted by how trembling Vitor’s vice must’ve sounded. “ You’ve grown up.”

The smile he received was nothing short or baring teeth and the King felt as if the golden beast’s jaw was slowly closing around his jugular.

“And you’ve grown weak, my Tsar. Leaving your quarters unguarded like this. Or was it an invitation?”

Victor swallowed hard. “It was, actually.” If possible the smile grew even sharper.

Upon an unknown signal the secret door behind the tapestry opened and one of the Kaskan warriors stepped inside the sleeping chamber. Victor’s blood ran cold when he saw who the warrior was holding hostage.

“My Lord!” Yuuri called out with a hoarse voice, though the blade on his throat prevented any further action. “Please forgive me!”

Victor was helpless at the sight and no sound would leave his throat. Yuuri though was addressing his brother now.

“I beg of you! Whatever ill blood is between the two of you, if my life can be of any consolation, please take it, Golden Beast.”

“I see you’ve enchanted yet another poor soul,” Yuri said not sparing the struggling slave any further glance.

“Yuri-”

“He’s here,” Yuri interrupted him and gestured to the frightened slave, “to make sure you listen and behave until I’m done here and decide whether it’s worth killing you or not.”

“Khemebek won’t like this,” Victor tried weakly. Yuri’s nostrils only flared and he saw the Kaskan’s eyes twinkling.

“Khemebek trusts me. He knows of the importance of justice. And betrayal.  
And after all. Your son’s just old enough to be crowned Tsar, right? And who would be better suited to educate him as his long lost uncle, who’d been away on a diplomatic mission all this time?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe, Vitya, maybe not. Then again, I’m not you.” Yuri’s eyes had their wild look again. The one that Victor had never forgotten.

With a smile he leaned back again in his chair. “Speaking about uncles, how’s the rest of our sibling’s fairing? How’s… Georgi?”

So this was what Yura was playing. Victor lowered his gaze to the ground. “I offered him a poison through which he would fall asleep and never wake up. He used it as a mean to escape his husband.”

“How generous of you. What about Sasha?”

“I’ve sent a hired knife for him.”

“Anastasia?”

“I bribed her chambermaid to throw her off a cliff of her island.”

“Natasha?”

“...”

“Mikhail?”

“Enough! If you’re here to show me my sins, you’ve done enough by looking me in the eyes!”

Yuri’s lips turned into a thin line and Victor thought his eyes might be glowing. It was probably a trick of the light as well as the movements in the shadows of the corners. Yuuri’s startled gasp though worried him.

“What I want to know, Victor, is why I’m not among them? You’ve sold three of your brothers into marriage, two of them are dead. Why did you never try to kill me? You must’ve known I would come for you one day.”

“Because-” he inhaled sharply. His eyes suddenly moist. “Because I could never kill you. Anybody, but not you. I know you may never believe me that, but I sent you away to protect you! Soon you would have gathered followers, people who thought you the better king and the struggle over the throne would never end! I knew your intentions were pure, but their whispers can be poison. And I’ve been approached by a handful of men who wanted you for their own. I hoped that sending you far far away, doing the things you loved, fulfilling the project you’ve worked for so hard, would be best for you. Would be the best way to keep you safe!”

Yuri’s eyes were unmoving and unforgiving. Victor felt the shadows creeping closer or was the light just getting dimmer?

“Khemebek described his brother as a gentle man with a strong sense of duty and kind eyes. I hoped giving you to a partner close your age would be tolerable for you. You wouldn’t have been safe here! And stupid and foolish how I was I thought it would be best for you to hate me, to burn all bridges between us so you could be free.”

“You have been and always will be a foolish man, Victor,” suddenly Yuri was in front of him and they were indeed equal in height. His long blond hair hung low on his back in the traditional Kaskan warrior braid and the sheared sides. The khole around his eyes made their fire only brighter. Truly this was a man born to lead his people.  
“I’ve known that for a long time, Victor. But I think I needed to hear it from you directly. Do you regret your actions?”

“I don’t regret sending you to safety, from keeping my promise to your grandfather. But looking back I wished I would’ve done differently. And I missed you dearly for every day that you’ve been away.”

Yuri huffed a dark sound. “Foolish indeed,” he murmured.

“You’re a good Tsar, Victor, as much as it pains me to admit. And this is my punishment for you. Remain a good king, a good father to your sons and try to change the ways. Because as soon as I will hear of you as an unfair and selfish ruler I will come for you and I will take what is rightfully mine to take. And trust me when I tell you that I can travel much much faster than you think. I’ll be in the shadows of your chamber with teeth in your throat whenever you dare to walk astray.”

With that Yuri turned away and Victor felt as if the room was much brighter again. Suddenly he became aware of the hyperventilating of Yuuri, whose wide and terrified eyes were locked on his brother. The Kaskan who’d held him hostage had a mildly panicked look himself. The knife long forgotten he all but held Yuuri upright.

Yuri smirked cruelly down at the slave. “Can you see what I am?”

Yuuri could only nod.

The smile grew sharp like ice. “Poor you.”

The Kaskan placed him gently on the floor and retreated to Yuri’s side. “Let’s go, Beka, I’m tired. Putting one's brother through the wringer is really tiresome. Who knew!”

Victor, who’d hurried towards Yuuri looked up sharply. He’d met the boy once, but had been too occupied to uphold his sharade and it was as if he met Otabek, the golden one, for the first time. Something about the casual brushing of hands as the two vanished through the hidden door, put a long forgotten worry deep inside of Victor to rest.

\--

Otabek woke up well rested and in a soft bed. He had to give it to the northerners, their beds were indeed very soft and comfortable. He stretched like a cat and noticed in the same process how the side next to him was empty and cold already.  
He sat up as he heard the door opening and closing again and all breath left him.

“By the stars…” he whispered, voice filled with awe.

Yuri flashed him an emberassed smile, tucking a blond lock behind his ear.

“Yura… you look beautiful!”

“Ah, shut up, Beka!” The faint rosy dust on his cheeks though told him that Yuri was flattered after all. Yuri’s appearance explained his absence in bed. He wore a sky blue robe that reached the floor, ornamented with glittering stones and tiny shells, a thin silver band in elaborated twirls wrapped around his head. Hs long blond hair had been untangled, washed and brushed so often it looked like spun gold as it hung freely and open from his head.

“Have I ever told you how I fell for your beauty the first time the veil was lifted?”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Oh, but I did!” Otabek leaned forward and captured Yuri’s wrist, tugging him down on the bed again. “It felt as if a star was given to me, glittering so bright it hurt my eyes. And oh, your eyes Yura,” he put their foreheads together. Seeing laughter and mirth in the colour of the sky and the grass was his favorite sight in the world. “When I saw them for the first time I thought: _so this is love. Or is it dying?_ I never knew.”

“And here I thought you fell for my charming personality,” Yuri rolled his eyes, but the rosy colour only intensified.

“Ah, of course, that too. After all, I’ve been known to love thorns and thistles so it was a short way to fall for your personality, too.”

“You oaf!” Yuri’s laughter though was Otabek’s most favourite thing to listen to. And when he captured his lips in a slow and sweet way he decided again that those were his most favourite things to taste.

“Come on,” Yuri tried to interrupt him, but his laboured breath told another story. “Have some breakfast with me. Later we have to tell the court exactly how successful I was with my idea of the route and rub it in all of their faces. And actually have you seen it? Old man Yakov is still alive! I’m wondering if he’ll start to rot if we look at him long enough!”

“You’re a horrible man, Yura!” Otabek’s laugh, on the other hand, was Yuri’s favourite thing to hear.

“And after that… I want to take you with me to the beach. I know you’ve seen the southern sea with all its greens and blues and all those little islands. But it’s not the same as the ocean. You’ve showed me your sea of grass, Otabek. I want to show you mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will work on a sequel to this (actually I have already started to write some bits), so if you don't want to miss it subscribe to me as an author and you'll be notified \0/
> 
> I have a ... thing... for characters coming back and are like super self confident, because they kind of just owned their misery, accepted it and became stronger.... and somehow just WON the whole thing?  
> That's Yuri.  
> I'm also really proud of him that he didn't allow his cuddle budies to rip Victor to shreds, though there exists an ending where he overtook the throne and united with Beka as his husband the lands from the grey sea of the north to the green waters of the south xD
> 
> Anyway!  
> Thank YOU so much for reading to this point! Without the support of you I don't think I would've finished updating this!  
> Please tell me how you liked or hated the epilogue!  
> It will always make me so much more happy!
> 
> I also live for that bit of Otayuri Fluffness at the end! ;0;


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